The Skinning of Danny Messer
by Stealth Dragon
Summary: A Serial killing with a twist, a cop teetering on the edge, and Danny Messer in the middle of it all. How far is Danny willing to go? R&R, I beg of you! Completed! Hooray!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI NY. I do not own it here or there, I do not own it anywhere. It belongs to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer whose movies I love. If ever one of my stories was to be made into a movie, I would want him to direct it. (Yeah, I know, keep dreaming Stealthy.) I also did not create American Mcgee's Alice but I do have the game and enjoy it more than I probably should.

Note: I apologize for the title if it sounds a little... disturbing. It's metaphorical, I promise.

A serial killing with a twist, an obssessed copteetering on the edge, and Danny Messer caught in the middle of it all. This case will pull him to the brink of reason. The question is, how faris hewilling to go?

**The Skinning of Danny Messer**

By Stealth Dragon

Only a few find the way. Some don't recognize it when they do. Some… don't ever want to. _The Cheshire Cat. From American Mcgee's Alice. _

Prologue

This is messed up, Danny thought. Too freakin' messed up. What the hll am I thinking? Why am I doing this? Maven's gonna pay for this.

Every step jarred his dislocated arm like a newly acquired wrenching of it. Then there was the throbbing ache in his chest, the drying blood clogging his nose, and the cut on his back that had gone from a sharp sting to an all out burning. The thing about pain was that there was only so much of it the body was going to put up with while the mind tried to ignore it. There came a point where the body did not want that pain to be ignored anymore, so forced its presence like a wake-up slap to the brain. All the macho, idealistic hype of being able to handle pain, of ignoring it, setting it aside, and never even once letting out so much as a whimper of its existence, was just that; hype, machoism, and a major load of crap.

Pain was not supposed to be ignored. It was supposed to be dealt with, and Danny was doing the opposite of that. He was letting it happen, and he had never felt more miserable in his life than he did at that moment. He was on the verge of puking and kept cussing under his breath with each agonizing step. If Aiden saw him now she would have probably whacked him on his bad arm and told him he deserved it, which he probably did.

" Stop acting like you're so tough all the time, Messer," she would say. The words sounded so clear and precise in his head that he could almost feel a phantom presence of her, though she was miles across the city, all safe and sound in the lab.

" You think you're proving something Messer? What're you trying to prove, huh? That you're full it?"

Danny shrugged his good shoulder in response. Great, he thought bitterly, I'm gettin' delirious.

Danny shivered. The nighttime cold caused his muscles to pull and aggravate his cracked and misaligned bones. All the same, Danny kept walking. He continued on down the empty sidewalk illuminated in a sickly wet sheen by the streetlights. He passed without consideration pit-black windows of closed businesses and apartment homes where people slept, warm and oblivious. He kept going despite the terror that had expanded to tighten his chest and cause his heart to pulsate faster than what was normal.

He crossed the street at a light and entered the darkened, silent park. He headed for the nearest bench, one made of concrete, and dropped himself into it much to his regret. His back hit the bench's back a little too hard, provoking the wound that didn't need any more provoking for one day. He sucked in a hissing breath, jerking forward and squeezing his eyes shut until the burning agony faded. He mumbled a few swears, then slowly sat back.

Now all that was left to do was to wait. He remained fixed to the seat, staring into the darkness of a small copse of shrubs across the path while ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him about how stupid this was. It was stupid. What it was not was his idea. He was just playing the game. Whatever happened next would be up to Mavin since it was his game to begin with.

Something would happen; Danny did not doubt that.

He was oblivious to the passage of time, though he was fairly certain it was close to midnight, or perhaps was midnight already. He heard a sound, a low mumbling, and he looked up to see a homeless man tottering along, drenched in rags and shadows. He was coming toward Danny only to stop on seeing the CSI. The two looked at eachother, both their faces obscured and distorted by the intermingling of light and darkness.

You wanna die? Danny thought irritably. This man's presence could ruin everything.

The homeless bum muttered something foul about the young man on the bench, then turned and shuffled back the way he had come.

Danny sighed in weary frustration, then turned away, closing his eyes to rest them for a while. The red image of the two-headed serpent flashed within the darkness behind his eyelids, dripping as though caught in the act of melting. It had become burned into his mind like a brand, which seemed almost fitting at the moment. He felt marked. He was marked. He had probably been marked since the moment he first stepped foot in the empty apartment and saw the blood.

He heard footsteps approaching from his left, crunching the gravel bits of the pathway with sharp reverberations. Though outwardly he did not move, inside he went rigid as wood. The steps were slow, casual, all about taking their sweet time. They sounded after every three beats of Danny's rapidly pounding heart. They grew closer, louder, with tormenting slowness. Danny kept his eyes closed no matter what his mind screamed. Finally, the footfalls stopped right in front of him. Danny opened his eyes, methodically looked up, and laughed.


	2. What's in a Name, and a Sternum

Super Disclaimer! I know I already said it. I don't own CSI or any of its characters (though I wouldn't mind an acquaintanship with Danny:).

Note: And thank you for all the nice reviews. You will learn what happens to Danny... eventually. (Insert evil laughter here)

Ch. 1

What's in a name, and a sternum

Danny positioned his glasses on the top of his head to peer into the lenses of the microscope. His left gloved hand drummed on the table top while his right gloved hand rested on the black hilt of the knife with the serrated blade. He was looking at some fibers he had pulled from the teeth of the knife, red fibers similar to the ones found on the victim's shirt. Danny grinned.

" There's that Cheshire smirk we know, love, and get creeped out by," said a thickly Brooklyn accented voice.

Danny gripped the hilt of the knife reflexively before Aiden could snatch it from him.

" I'm almost done with it, Aid, I swear," Danny said, focusing on the intricate spiraling weave that made up the thread. " Give me that slide with the shirt sample."

" Give me the knife."

Danny pulled his gaze from the microscope to look at Aiden. She was leaning with her hands on the table, one finger tapping in incessant impatience on the reflective white surface.

Danny, still grinning, lifted the blade. " You mean this knife?" The weapon had the appearance of something that Rambo might have used. It was a wicked weapon with the blade able to penetrate nearly to the backbone.

Aiden wore a frozen expression of utter annoyance. " Yes, Messer, that knife. Now stop smirkin' like a cat and hand it over. You got what you needed from it."

Danny ignored what she said. He glanced into the scope once more, then looked at the knife.

" You really think it happened like Goering said?"

Aiden sat down on one of the stools, folding her arms on the table surface.

" That the vic fell on the knife while attacking him? It's possible."

Danny turned the knifepoint up. " Yeah, nice and possible except for fact that the guy's chest was sawed in two."

Aiden shrugged. " The guy's weight caused it."

" The blade would have to be turned up for that to happen. Normally when someone holds a knife they hold it blade down." Danny turned the knife, pointing it at his own chest blade up. " And you usually don't get that exact of a slice from someone 'accidentally' landing on the blade. That penetration was dead center, _dead center_." He touched the point of the blade lightly to his chest. " And the cut in the bone was too perfect…"

" Danny, don't do that," Aiden said with slight exasperation.

" Do what?" Danny replied with the knife still pointed at himself.

" Aim that thing at yourself. Do you realize what you look like doing that? And what if someone accidentally knocked into you?"

Danny shrugged indifferently. " I'd get cut."

Aiden's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. " A cut? Danny, that knife was meant to rip through bone like it was bread."

" Only if you use force."

Aiden rolled her eyes then grabbed the knife from Danny's hand. Danny let her take it rather than pulling back and risking a cut.

" It takes a lot more than a jolt to penetrate solid bone," he said, rapping his knuckles against his breastbone.

Aiden let out a breath through her nose. " Danny, the shoulder blade is solid bone. The sternum is cartilage."

" No, it's bone… and cartilage."

Now it was Aiden who was smirking as she tapped the tip of the knife on the table. " Whatever, Messer, its not all bone, and it's not all that reliable bone either if you ask me. If a spoon can penetrate the sternum with the right amount of force then I don't think it would take much for this knife to puncture you a new entrance to the esophagus

Danny raised his hands in defeat. " Whatever you say mom. But at least I know you care about me. Do you care about me, Burn?" He asked, leaning in toward her, forever grinning. Aiden reflected his smile.

" What I care about, Messer, is not getting this knife contaminated just because you have a sicko masochist mind."

" If I had a masochist mind I would have sliced myself by now. I was being careful, Aid. I was trying to make a point. That knife entered dead center and cut dead center and dead perfect."

" Which is why our vic is dead," Aiden said, slapping her hands on the table as she got up. " Now, since you gave me the knife, I'll get you the slide, just as long as you promise not to use it to 'demonstrate' how someone might use glass to slit their wrist."

Danny lowered his head in a silent, mocking chuckle, then turned his attention back to the scope. " You slay me Aid."

" You worry me Messer," Aiden shot back. " You _really_ worry me."

Danny moved his head back from the microscope, slipping his glasses over his eyes. " I aim to worry." He looked through the windows of the lab at the continuing miscellaneous flow of figures moving against a darker colored backdrop. He saw Detective Mac Taylor standing only a few feet away, talking to a tall, broadly built man Danny had never seen before. The man was probably around Mac's age, his dark brown hair peppered with hints of gray and his long face marked with lines like weathered rock. He wore a long, dark trench coat, and had he been wearing a fedora hat might have seemed like someone who had walked straight out of The Untouchables flick.

It wasn't really the man that had caught Danny's attention, or Mac, but the fact that Mac was gesturing toward the lab. And every time Mac turned his head, his eyes went straight to Danny, and Mac's expression boded nothing favorable.

NYCSI

Stan Maven liked Detective Taylor's office. The windows afforded an unobstructed view of everything while keeping out distracting noises. Stan had no such luxury. His desk was out in the open like a ship lost in a sea of desks, bodies, and sound. Phones were always ringing, people yammering, and some stoner was always cussing and shouting loud enough to wake the devil's wrath. He would've liked to have an office like this where he could watch while remain separated from the masses. Almost like a god, he thought with amusement, and smiled at the idea.

He wondered if that was how detective Taylor saw himself these days. Maybe not so much as a deity, but more as a king or dictator. Well, maybe not a dictator. No one ever admitted to feeling like a dictator. A commander or general would probably be more accurate for Taylor since he had once been a marine. Stan's acquaintance with Taylor may have been brief, but Stan was quick when it came to knowing life stories. He knew how to ask the right questions, and who to ask, all without ever having to confront the person directly if he didn't want. He liked to know, and always made it his business to know.

As Mavin watched the motion beyond the window he tapped a folder of files against his thigh. He had been waiting in the office for about fifteen minutes now, but knew how to wait longer. Stakeouts were his specialty, after all, and they had taught him all about patience. The waiting came to an end, though, when Detective Taylor appeared weaving through the moving bodies toward his office. He was talking to that tall, skinny kid Detective Flack. Mavin had never liked Flack. The kid tended toward pouring far too much attitude into his interrogations than was needed, and was a little too quick about making assumptions.

Taylor and Flack parted company with Flack heading toward the lab. Taylor went on into his office, giving Stan a brief look that betrayed Mac's annoyance at seeing him there.

" Can I help you, Detective Mavin?" Mac asked as he removed his jacket. He draped the jacket over the back of his chair and sat down where he began looking through a small stack of papers on his desk.

Mavin smiled, then tossed the file onto the desk. " Hopefully. You heard about the string of ATM thefts that's been going on?"

Mac picked up the file and flipped through it. " Some guy haunts an ATM at night, then tails whoever takes out the biggest wad of cash and robs them. No fingerprints and no face since it's too dark to see him." Mac's face fell into a scowl of consternation when pulled out a sketch. " Until now."

Stan nodded once. " Dumb luck. A car pulled up to help the lady being attacked and she saw his face. Now, of course a face doesn't mean much without a name. So I started showing it around to the local thugs who like picking the goods at ATMs and one of 'em dropped a name."

" Yeah?" Mac asked, studying the sketch over. " Do I know him?"

Stan shrugged. " You should. Supposedly he works for you. Danny Messer?"

Mac looked up at Mavin as though the detective had lost it.

" Danny Messer," Mac echoed, his voice thick with incredulity.

" Yeah, Danny Messer. The guy I talked to said that was him without a doubt."

Mac looked at the picture, then back at Stan. " Was this – source of yours high by any chance?"

Mavin sighed. " No, Detective Taylor, he had a pretty clear head when I was talking to him. Look, I know you trust your CSIs, but…"

Mac shook his head, looking at the picture as though looking at a piece of bad art.

" That's not it. I can't even begin to tell you what's wrong with this, so I guess I'll just have to show you."

Mac stood and headed from his office without waiting for Stan and so forcing him to hurry after. They headed toward the lab that looked almost like another world with its sterile white clashing loudly against the darker colors of the rest of the building. AS they approached, Stan could see one of the young forensics pointing a knife at his own chest while chatting with a woman sitting across from him.

Wacko, Stan thought, then snickered quietly when the woman snatched the knife away.

" So what's this about, detective?" Stan asked. " Is this guy here or not 'cause I'd really like to talk to him if he's here."

" Yes, Danny Messer's here," Mac said. He stopped and turned to Mavin. " Tell me about this source of yours. Who was he?"

Stan tilted his head slightly to one side and narrowed his eyes. He couldn't determine what Mac was getting at, but neither did Mavin really care. He had his suspect and he would take him despite anything Taylor tried.

" That's need to know, detective. This isn't your case to be asking questions."

Mac pointed toward the lab. " But that is my CSI." He looked toward the lab. Stan looked as well but did not see the man he wanted.

" I don't like the fact that someone is naming names like that," Mac said.

Stan stared hard at Mac. Was he stalling? And if he was, what for? He didn't like where this was going and tensed. He kept staring at Mac as Mac pointed at someone in the lab then jerked his hand in a short wave for that someone to come here.

Stan turned his head to see the young man who moments ago had been pointing a knife at himself exit the lab and move toward them.

" Yeah Mac?" he asked.

" Stan Mavin, Danny Messer."

Stan smiled and would have laughed had he been lacking in self-control. It was almost like a cosmic joke, or perhaps the joke of a young, panicky punk who had spouted the first name he knew.

The actual suspect was described as a big guy, over six feet tall with a baldhead, an earring, a goatee, and a body built like an ox – all muscle and almost 200 pounds.

Messer was his total opposite. In Stan's eyes, this kid was scrawny. At least compared to the suspect he would be. Messer wasn't a major toothpick or anything, but neither was he any 200 hundred pounds. Stan himself was six feet exactly, and Danny was several inches shorter than him, so he would most likely be even shorter than the perp. Messer was what one might call an average height, neither too tall nor too short. It was the kind of height the overly tall and the overly short would kill for. Finally, Messer had hair, and his ears were ring free.

" This is Danny Messer," Stan said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Danny looked Stan over with a darkened expression. " Yeah. Who wants to know?"

Mavin had barely said anything and the kid looked ready to take him down. He appeared to Stan to be high strung, constantly agitated, but not in the nervous, twitchy way of a paranoid. For Messer it was more the agitation of someone readying for a fight, even desiring a fight. Defensive, Stan thought; that was it, the guy must be the defensive type.

This amused Stan. The glasses and the lab coat were giving off an aura of science geek. If it came down to it, Stan could probably bring Messer down. Yet, at the same time, adding to his amusement, something about the way Danny was looking at him – hard, penetrating, and unwavering – told him a different story. Maybe Stan could take him down, maybe not. He was partially curious to see which it was.

What he was more curious about, though, was why Danny's name had come up in this investigation.

" You know a guy named Nick Costallo? 'Cause he seems to know you."

Danny shoved his hands into the pocket of his lab coat and shifted his weight onto the other foot.

" A little? Why?"

" How do you know him?" Mavin asked next.

" Why do you want to know?"

Mavin almost laughed again. This guy had way too much attitude than he knew what to do with.

" 'Cause he just fingered you as being this guy."

Stan pulled the sketch from the file and handed it to Danny. Messer took it, looked it over once, shook his head and snickered.

" That SOB always was an idiot," he said, handing the sketch back. " That's just his stupid way of getting revenge."

" Revenge for what?"

Danny shrugged. " Being a wuss. He used to be part of the Tanglewoods until he began running his mouth off to the whole world about the crap they used to do, half of which wasn't anything worth bragging about to begin with. The Tanglewoods got sick of it, slapped an out date on his neck, and threatened to kill him if he said anything ever again. He always talked about revenge, but the closest he got was ratting someone out for unpaid parking tickets."

" You were a Tanglewood?" Mavin asked next. This supposed lab geek was full of surprises. Danny, however, shook his head.

" No. I ran with 'em, but I never joined. Nick kind of resented that. Wouldn't be the first time he used my name against me. It's yet to work, though."

Stan began tapping the folder against his leg in thought. " You're telling me you used to run with the Tanglewood Boys and never got marked for it?"

" I was smarter than that. I didn't like the stuff they were into."

One surprise after another. This kid was proving more interesting by the second.

" And yet they let you hang with them all the same. They never tried to talk you into joining or forced you?"

" No. I mean they tried from time to time." A note of discomfort was creeping into Danny's voice. " But, you know, they backed down."

" Why?"

Anger sparked momentarily in Messer's cold blue eyes. " Look, am I under suspicion or something? You after the Tanglewoods or this guy who doesn't even look like me?"

Stan lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. " I just find it a little weird that you ran with a gang and never joined. Doesn't happen that often, you know."

Danny's jaw-muscles twitched and he yanked of his lab coat.

" You don't believe me?" he said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He then turned his back on Mavin while pulling down the collar to expose his upper back. " Check it out for yourself."

Mavin pulled the collar as far down as it would go, disregarding the fact that he might be choking Danny. Danny made no indications. His head was down, his gaze oozing anger toward the floor.

The areas where the tattoo would have been - where spine became neck or at the top of the shoulder blades - were free of any Tanglewood tag.

" Happy?" Danny snapped, jerking his collar back up and buttoning the shirt. He placed the lab coat back on as he turned, glaring at Mavin.

Stan raised his hands in mock defense. " Sorry, man. Sorry."

Loathing poured from Danny like poison. Touchy, undeniably touchy.

" We done here then?" Messer asked, looking at Mac.

" Yeah, I think we're done," Mac replied.

Danny gave Stan one more glare, then headed back into the lab. Stan watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. He found it a wild concept that this forensic science nerd had made pals with a rather nasty gang and never joined, yet was still breathing despite it. The lives of some people could be exceedingly boring, while the lives of others beyond fascinatingly strange.

Stan pointed at Danny before he vanished behind the door. " That guy must have a lot of issues, am I right?" He looked at Mac for a reply. Mac's return gaze was shadowed in annoyance.

" I don't think that's any of your business. You got what you came for, so I think your business here is done."

Stan feigned hurt. " What's with the hostility, Taylor? It's just an investigation?"

Now it was Mac who turned and left. Stan couldn't help a grin. He was used to cold shoulders and was very aware that it was his own fault for receiving so many. He knew what people thought of him, but that had yet to bother him. He did what needed to be done whether anyone liked it or not.

Stan returned his attention to Messer who had sat back down at the microscope. He must have sensed that Stan was watching, because he looked back up to stare daggers at the detective. If looks could kill, went the saying. Danny's gaze might have pulverized Stan if possible.

Stan shook his head. Had Messer been one of his, he would have brought that kid to his knees, taught him the meaning of respect, broken him down. Guys like Messer were nothing but talk, and when the talk was over and the harshness of life bore down hard as a driven nail, nothing but frightened children.


	3. Bad Blood All Around

Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI or it's people. I am sad to say that Mavin is mine. Please feel free to do as you wish to him. (Evil grin)

Ch. 2

Bad Blood All Around

" You're quiet," Stella said, snapping Mac out of his deep contemplation. He had finally maneuvered from heavier traffic onto a more free-flowing street. It was a shortcut to the scene. Mac, long ago, had made it a priority to know New York in terms of the shortest routes to anywhere.

Mac shrugged. " Nothing to talk about."

The corner of Stella's mouth quirked in a slight smile and she leaned her head on her fist with her elbow resting on the car door. " Life really that boring Mac?"

" No. Just not much to talk about."

The scattered clouds above them cast patches of shadows on the streets and the buildings that surrounded them in a forest of glass, concrete, and steel. They passed a plaza with a fountain where a group of teenagers were gathered, blasting their stereo for all of New York to hear. The noise filled the car with a hollow rhythmic thump that penetrated deep into their chest cavities, causing their insides to vibrate. Mac hated it when people cranked their radios. It always felt as though the sound was coming from inside him, expanding against his ribs in an attempt to break free.

" You still upset with Danny for that whole human statue case?"

Mac took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had actually forgotten about that incident for once, and felt a slight twinge of annoyance at Stella for dredging it back up.

" Maybe," Mac replied. They turned right, and the heavy thump faded behind them into a bad memory.

" Hey, I wouldn't blame you. You told him to pass it off, he didn't."

Mac thought back to that day with unease. " I know. It just surprised me he would do that."

Both of Stella's eyebrows lifted. " Surprised you? Didn't surprise me. The guy's obsessive. He has to know how things happened, why things happened…"

" Don't we all?"

Stella shrugged. " Yeah, but I think Danny has one up on us. He's obviously proven that. I mean, if that _is_ why he stayed with the case. I don't know, just my point of view talking here."

Stella was right, though. Mac had known it of Danny before the incident with the dead statue man. Danny did lean toward the obsessive. Solving a case wasn't enough for him; he had to understand it. He had to know why it came about in the first place. Thus far it had always been an advantage for Danny since he attacked each case with great tenacity. But nothing was perfect. There was bound to be a flaw in the system.

Yet it had still shocked Mac that Danny had gone behind his back. He had never expected it, or perhaps had just ignored the possibility completely. It had seemed so unlike Danny, and yet at the same time very much like him. It had made Mac realize that there were things he had yet to know of concerning Danny Messer. But, then again, people were always full of surprises no matter how well known they were.

A left turn and eight more blocks later they came to their destination. Mac turned onto a narrow, shadowed street in front of a red bricked complex under renovation. It was a building of classic design; most likely something ancient and historical being brought back to life to be used as an apartment complex. Everywhere was cluttered the mess of renovation; scaffolding, tools, old paint cans that had yet to be thrown away, and large garbage bins half-full with torn up walls, flooring, and shattered brick.

Mac and Stella got out of the car, grabbing their kits, and headed toward the art-deco entrance marred by the yellow police tape crossed in front of it. An officer standing guard lifted the tape for them to enter after a flash of IDs.

" Second floor," the officer said. Inside the place smelled of water, paint, and dust. There were no doors on any of the rooms, and half the black and white checkered floor of the hall was stripped away revealing gritty discolored cement.

" This'll be a nice place once they get done," Stella commented. They took the stairs at the end of the hall to the second level. Another officer was there, this one younger with a pale face verging on green. Mac and Stella showed their ID, and the young officer took a deep breath.

" You okay son?" Mac asked the officer.

He nodded stiffly. " Yeah. It's just… this is my first homicide."

Mac nodded in understanding. " That bad?"

" More like weird," said Flack, stepping out from a room four doors down. " But I suppose I should just let you be the judges of that. Two workers found it this morning around eight."

Flack went back inside and Mac and Stella followed with the uniformed cop trailing after to take up his position by the door. The scene was not in the living room but the one next to it. Both slowed as they walked through the entry on their left. The room with a wooden floor and a fireplace was large and illuminated in a misty light pouring from two windows on the right wall. It was completely empty except for an old porcelain bathtub in the center of the room, and a body hanging by a tied sheet from the exposed pipes of the ceiling.

" I stand corrected," Stella said, setting her kit down. " This _would_ be a nice place except for the reputation it's going to have."

" Weird, right?" Flack said. " Bathtub in the middle of the room. But check out the inside of the tub and the body."

Mac and Stella moved closer. The body was of a young woman, perhaps late twenties, with long black hair obscuring most of her face. She was dressed in a knee-length black skirt and a sleeveless black shirt, all decorated in small, silver studs.

" Looks as though she might have been partying before all this," Stella commented.

" And she may have already been dead before she was hung," Mac said as he brushed back the woman's hair. Blood soaked the sheet wrapped around her throat as well as her shirtfront. Mac looked down, expecting to see the tub glazed in human blood. All he saw were flecks and splash puddles most likely from the final drops.

" There should be more than this," Mac said, mostly to himself. " Her throat was cut ear to ear. There should be blood everywhere."

Stella stuck film into her camera and waited as it wound audibly. " Maybe it was collected in something else." She then held the camera to her eye and began flashing pictures of the body and the tub. " Like a bucket, to cut down on evidence."

Flack scratched the side of his neck with one finger. " You know, that sounds kind of familiar, the collecting blood thing. Or is that just me?"

Mac looked away from the body directly to the wall on the left. There was discoloring on the dark wood paneling that would have easily been overlooked had Mac not known to search for it. Mac moved toward it, defining the shape of the discoloration the closer he came.

" Stella, Flack, come see this," he said. The two came over to stand beside him and stare at the wall.

" What is that, blood?" Stella asked. She took a picture, and the light illuminated the shadowy wall, briefly revealing an odd, messily scrawled image.

" What was that, a dragon?" Flack asked with a look of disgust.

" A snake, actually," Mac replied. " A two headed snake." He set down his own kit, opened it, and took out a swab. He gathered some of the red onto the tip. It was still wet, so could not be paint unless recently applied. He handed the swab to Stella to test it; his eyes frozen on the image as though looking away might cause it to vanish.

" It's blood," Stella announced.

Flack grimaced. " That might explain what happened to the blood in the tub."

Mac's jaw tensed. He shook his head, familiarity hitting him like a sledgehammer. " Not if this is what I think this is. This may not be our vic's blood."

" What do you mean?" Stella asked.

" Do you recall a case about three years back, a serial killing that involved hangings? They called the killer the Hangman?"

" Woe!" Flack said, taking two steps back. " This is the guy? I mean - this is his work?"

The snake image was crude, the body coiled once and the two heads looking away in either direction, mouth open in a bearing of dripping fangs. " Looks like it."

" But I thought they caught that guy?" Stella said, taking more pictures of the snake.

" Maybe. This could just be a copycat. Except…."

" Except?" Stella prodded.

" Except it was never made public that the snake was two-headed. But that doesn't rule out the possibility. I helped work that case; though my involvement was minimal. The thing was the guy we caught kept insisting he was innocent. No matter how he was interrogated he never confessed. He was a construction worker, an everyday, blue-collared type. The only mark on his record was a few speeding tickets and one act of disorderly conduct when he was a teenager. Supposedly he got drunk and ran through his school prom naked. But that's beside the point. The real point is that no one believed he did it. He wouldn't even have been noticed had it not been for the fact he lived near one of the victims, and that we found a mountain of evidence held in his hands. Kind of an accident really, he was trying to get rid of it. He claimed it wasn't his and he didn't know how it got there."

Flack started in slight surprise. " And you believed him?"

Mac looked over his shoulder at the younger man. " After a while we started to." He looked back to the image. " Have you ever heard of a serial killer who didn't like to brag?"

Flack snorted out a laugh.

" Even wannabes and copy-cats brag," Stella said. " Even if it's not their work."

" Exactly. The Hangman killings were…" Mac winced slightly at having to use his next words, " perfection. No matter how we searched the scene we couldn't find any evidence leading to our guy. The Hangman was a practical freakin' artist. We couldn't find anything, anywhere. Then all of a sudden there it all was. Tubes of blood, gloves, ropes, knife, all packed in one little cardboard box about to be tossed out. It was too easy, but we didn't have anything to tell us otherwise, so the courts just went with it. The man didn't get the death penalty, just life and a few psyche evaluations. I don't think anyone was convinced. Even the psychologists evaluating the guy swear he's innocent to this day, we just can't find the proof."

" Until now?" Stella asked.

Mac pressed his mouth into a tight line. " Don't jump to conclusions. After the arrest was made the killings stopped. However, I don't know if a copycat will be as thorough as our original guy. Like I said, he was a perfectionist."

" Unless he got some advice from the suspected killer," Stella said, " and your everyday construction worker is a genius who knows how to act."

Mac shook his head uncertainly. " Kind of pointless to keep up the act. He got life. He's never getting out unless he didn't do it after all. I know I said not to jump to any conclusions, but I don't see how this could be a copycat. At least not yet."

Though Mac remained visibly stoic, his insides were squirming. The Hangman had been a troubling case, and as a CSI that was saying a lot.

" These killings, they moved fast," he continued as he thought back. " Two, sometimes three, days after finding one body another would show up, and the deaths were not always alike. One would be hung, the other stabbed and hung, the next gutted and hung. Only the hangings were the same."

" The Hangman's like an urban legend," said Flack as he paced casually about the room in careful observation. " I hear all these stories about it. This one guy told a bunch of us that the Hangman was a ghost."

" I heard someone say it was like a chain letter," Said Stella. She had returned to the body to take more pictures. " It started as a suicide, then the person returned from the grave to kill someone else, and that someone else returns from the grave to do the same, and that's why it happened so fast. We all had a good laugh about it."

" And not all the victims were women," Flack added.

" The rest, I seriously doubt," said Mac. " But the women part is true. Some of the vics were men."

" Wasn't there a cop killed as well?" Flack asked next. Mac nodded.

" She was the last victim."

The room went silent for a moment, though Mac would rather the questions continue. The silence was giving him time to think and he did not like where his thoughts were going. A reopening of this case, whether legit or copycat, would mean a repeat in history for many. He was not worried for himself so much but for the rest of his team. Which suddenly reminded him.

He turned to face the others. " Oh yeah, be careful what you touch."

At this, Flack, who had been standing by the fireplace about to place his hand on the mantle, snatched it away.

" If this is our guy, keep in mind at all times that he liked to set traps."

" Traps?" Stella and Flack asked in unison.

Mac nodded and held up his hand. " We had one guy lose a finger to an animal trap in one of the victim's closet. Another time we had to leave the scene when someone tripped a wire that released propane gas. We didn't even notice until we all started getting dizzy. They're not meant to kill, but they're not cute little pranks either."

Stella and Flack exchanged uneasy looks. Mac looked back at the image and released a slow breath. He knew that once word spread, certain familiar names would come up, followed by familiar faces as those who had worked the case in the beginning crawled out from the shadows to take up their old quest. Among them would be Stan Mavin, and the thought made Mac's insides squirm once more.

NYCSI

Mac stared intently through the windows of his office, leaning back in his chair while twirling and clicking a pen in his hand. There was an itch of desire at the back of his mind to assist Stella in processing the little evidence they had found. He wanted to be there when the blood tests confirmed that the vic's blood and the blood on the wall did not match. He wanted to hear the words for himself to confirm what he already knew.

He forced the desire back another notch. What he was doing now was more important, and Stella, Aiden, and Danny could handle it fine. It wasn't as though there was much to process at any rate.

Mac knew he was jumping the gun on this, but his certainty had become near solid after the lack of prints, fibers, or hairs found anywhere at the scene. The place had been clean as though the body had materialized from someplace else. Word of this would spread fast, and was doing so even as he sat and waited. It would have reached the ears of Stan Mavin by now, and any minute he would come striding into Mac's office demanding information as though the case had never ended. And for Stan it probably hadn't, if the rumors Mac had heard over time were true.

Mac finally spotted Stan weaving through forensics and cops, making his steps wide and fast. Mac settled for clicking the pen rather than turning it about. His gaze never left Stan as the tall, broad shouldered detective moved around to the door and stepped inside.

" What've you got?" he asked immediately.

" What do you think I've got?" Mac replied.

Stan, a little out of breath, placed his hands on his hips and grinned. " A body, blood, a picture, and not much else?"

Mac gave a slight smile in return. " So far."

" Come on, Mac. You finally cave and agree with the courts that that construction guy did it? You honestly believe we got the man?"

Mac shrugged. " I never really decided. And I won't decide until we have all the facts."

" We never had any facts to begin with."

Stan had Mac there. " True."

A brief moment of silence fell between them as they regarded eachother intensely as though caught in a staring contest. The only sound came from the occasional clicking of Mac's pen.

" I've already been asked back on this case," Stan said.

" Why am I not surprised?"

Mavin gave a quiet chuckle. " I always thought nothing could surprise you Taylor. They're getting everyone who was on the case back in and them some."

Mac nodded once. " I already received a call about a profiler being sent in."

" Castle?"

" No, he retired. Farrone, his assistant."

Stan's mouth spread into a smile that was more like a leer. " Oh yeah, I remember her. She was earning a degree. She was pretty hot then, wonder if she still is." He chuckled at this, but stopped when Mac didn't join in.

" Come on, Taylor, lighten up," he said in response to Mac's silence.

" You were never funny back then, Mavin. You're still not funny today."

Mavin shrugged. " Whatever. Listen, Taylor. I need something from you and I don't want any bull about it. I'm not normally one to ask for favors, but seeing as how the situation calls for it…"

" What is it, Mavin?"

" I need a CSI at my disposal."

Mac stopped clicking his pen. " That's kind of a given, Mavin. We're all pretty much at everyone's disposal."

Stan shook his head. " No, I don't mean waiting for one to show up at the scene. I need one on call at all times. You know how I work, Mac. I don't want to stand around for hours waiting for one of you guys to show up. I'd rather just take one along for the ride. You know good and well that of all the cops working this case I found out the most, I questioned the most. I know this case better than anyone and I know what to look for. And it'd be a hll of a lot easier if I had one of your forensics with me."

Mac knit his brow into a slight scowl. " To be clear, is this something I can say no to?"

Stan smirked. " Not really. I already asked my boss and he backs me up on it. In fact, he's planning on having one of yours by the side of every one of ours working this case. The killer moves fast, so we gotta be ready. We gotta be on our toes at all times."

Mac sighed, tossing the pen onto his desk with a loud clatter. " Fine."

" Anyone in particular you're willing to part with… for a time?"

Mac leaned forward resting his elbow on his desk, massaging the area above his eyebrow. " Not really."

" Well, you know, last week when I came in here there was this one chick in the lab…"

" No," Mac stated flatly. Although Aiden could have easily handled Stan's occasional sexists bouts, he'd rather not put her through it to begin with. Stan was more than just sexist. Had Mac his way, no one would be forced to work with him.

Stan lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. " Okay then. Who else you got?"

" No one I'd be willing to place with you."

Stan chuckled again. " Come on, Mac. I wasn't that bad."

Mac wanted to laugh himself. " You're right, you were worse. You didn't know when to quit, when to be careful. You also don't know when to shut up."

Though Stan's smile remained plastered to his face, his gaze darkened as though a shadow had fallen over his features only. " Getting a little hostile there, Taylor. Look, if it's any consolation, I promise to play nice, all right?"

" No, it's not a consolation."

Stan rolled his eyes to the ceiling and threw his hands up in the air. " Aw, come on Mac, give me a little credit. Maybe I changed."

" I doubt it."

Stan laughed. " You really are a cold SOB, you know that?" Suddenly, Stan's eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. " I got it. What's the name of that skinny kid with the glasses, the one I thought was my ATM perp?"

Mac straightened, lowering his hand to the desk. " Danny Messer?"

" Yeah, him. How about him?"

Again Mac was hit with the urge to laugh, but instead gave Stan a glare mingled with disbelief. " You two didn't exactly hit it off well if you haven't recalled."

" Hey, it's in the past."

" It was only last week."

" We all deserve a second chance. I'm willing to give Messer one."

Mac wanted to wipe the smug grin off Mavin's face, though it would not have been Mavin without it. The man made an art out of smiling. Mac had never known him without a smirk that always managed to make Mac's flesh crawl. He was not the only one caught in this mindset. Others had confessed of a secret desire to slug the guy. It wasn't so much that he grinned all the time but that he did so at the most inappropriate times. Even with a mangled, bloody body hanging before him the detective still had found some reason to leer. The man had no respect for anything. But there was more to him than that, which was why Mac felt a sudden surge of concern for Danny.

" Look Mac," Mavin continued. " I need a CSI, and I want Messer. That all right with you? I promise to keep all sexist jokes to a minimum," he simpered.

The word 'no' danced on the tip of Mac's tongue, teetering on the edge of coming out. " How about I work with you," he said instead, though those words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Mavin shook his head. " I want Messer. It might do the kid some good working with me since I know this case so well. Might give him some experience."

" He has experience."

" More experience then. I've made up my mind, Mac. I want Messer. And right now what I say pretty much goes."

Mac stared at Stan for a moment, then past him to the infinite movement beyond the window. He studied the faces of those who walked by; wondering which of them might be more suited to working with Stan. Danny wasn't going to like this, and might reveal another streak of rebellion if asked to work with a man he had despised the moment he met him.

" I want Messer, Mac."

A darker side of Mac hoped that Danny would rebel and refuse to go along with this. But since Mac did not want anyone to have to work with Stan to begin with, and so could not think of anyone else, he was forced to comply.

" Fine. But let me talk to him first."

Stan held up both his hands. " No problem."

" One more thing. I think he would prefer it if you didn't call him 'that skinny kid' or even 'kid' for that matter."

Another smirk spread on Stan's face. " He a little touchy?"

" Maybe," Mac replied, leaving it at that to give Mavin something to ponder.


	4. Unpleasant Metaphors

Diclaimer: Still don't own CSI NY, or American Macgee's Alice. I just have the game, I didn't make it.

Note: had to do some revising, so do not be alarmed if things seem a tad different. I didn't know you couldn't use song lyrics grins sheepishly. I'm a little saddened by that since the lyrics were a kind of foreshadowing of things to come. Oh well. And the thanks for the reviews remain! "Sniff" it makes me so happy to see so many enjoying this. It's been fun writing.

_Alice: …_ There is always more than one to skin a cat, if you will pardon the expression.

_Chashire:_ Most unpleasant metaphor, please avoid using it in the future. _American McGee's Alice._

Ch. 3

Unpleasant Metaphors

Danny flipped through the pages of the Entertainment magazine without paying much attention to it. He would only pause on a page that made mention of some movie that was coming out, who was in it, and so on, but for the most part only looked at it to give his eyes something to do while he ate his lunch. The Unwritten Law song _Save Me _was playing over the small radio on the counter of the break room as people moved in and out, grabbing sacks of lunch and cans of soda.

The words of the song penetrated into Danny's brain whether he paid attention to them or not, and he knew the song would be stuck in his head for the rest of the day, playing over and over like a skipping CD.

Danny started in alarm when the song vanished to be replaced by the Will Smith song _Switch. _He looked up from the magazine over at Aiden who was standing by the radio, still wearing her lab coat, and moving to the music.

" Hey," Danny protested. " I was listening to that."

Aiden, still dancing some, looked over at Danny and smiled. " Sorry."

She changed the station back, then removed her coat to drape it over the back of the chair and claim a seat. She moved over to the fridge between the counter and the sink and pulled out a chicken salad, yogurt, and a diet soda. She turned to set the food on the table then turned back to the radio to change it to her song when Danny's song had ended. She decreased the volume and finally sat down, popping off the lid to her salad as she did so.

As she ate, she bobbed her head to the music. Danny watched her, taking a drink from his soda then setting it beside his half-eaten sandwich.

" You seem perky today."

Aiden flicked her eyes up at Danny in a scowl. She hated it when people referred to her as 'perky'. She ripped open a packet of dressing and squeezed it over her salad.

" I'm surprised you're not," she said, mixing the salad with a plastic fork. " Mac let us help out. We're free from the meaningless monotony of paperwork and sitting around with nothing to do until a new case pops up."

Danny studied Aiden for a moment to see if she was serious. " A little harsh, isn't it? Hoping for a new case?"

Aiden looked up at him with another scowl. " You know what I mean, Danny. We don't have to sit around. I'd be happy just to clean up the lab if it meant not having to stare at papers all day until my butt goes numb. Besides that, it also means that Mac isn't mad at me for helping you out on a case you weren't supposed to solve."

Danny returned to looking at the magazine in hopes it would give Aiden the clue to drop the subject.

" I'd think you'd be thrilled that Mac let you help," Aiden continued. " I mean he was more mad at you than me."

" No, he was just mad at me. I told you I'd take the heat and I did."

" And I'm grateful," Aiden replied, and took a bite of her salad.

Danny tossed the magazine onto the table and picked up his sandwich for a bite of his own.

" So what do you know about the whole Hangman deal?" Aiden asked. " Anything?"

His mouth full, Danny could only shake his head.

" I heard one guy say the killer's some kind of alien harvesting human fluids or something."

Laughter caused Danny to choke, and he snatched up his soda to wash down the food before it slipped into the wrong pipe. Even after getting it down he was still laughing and coughing at the same time.

" Was he serious?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

" I hope not," Aiden said with a smile. " Pretty sad if he thought it was true."

Danny had finished laughing but not coughing. Stella came in then, and as she walked passed Danny toward the fridge she gave him several hard pats on the back.

" Come on, Messer, get it out of there. Clear that airway." She then looked at Aiden in mock alarm. " Aiden, you were just going to sit there while Danny choked to death?"

Aiden waved dismisively. " He was fine."

Danny coughed a few more times until the tickling on the edge of his windpipe cleared away. " Hey Stella," he said in a slightly hoarse voice. He cleared his throat one more time. " What do you know about the Hangman case? Besides what you heard some wacko spout."

Stella took out a small bottle of orange juice from the fridge and snapped the cap off. " A cop supposedly died," she said before taking a drink.

Aiden looked up and Danny winced.

" Really?" he asked.

" That's what Mac told me. I wasn't really working it; I had another assignment at the time. I do know one thing. The guy was always one step ahead. That's why no one believed it was that Lynals guy, the one who was arrested for it. Too coincidental. Too easy. This guy liked to make things hard. Did you know he like to set traps?"

" Traps?" Danny and Aiden said as one.

" That's what Mac said. He's going to fill us in on the rest. The city wants everyone in on it and I'm telling you now I think this is going to be one Hll of an investigation. The FBI might even play a part, but that could just be a rumor."

" Rumors are never a good thing to listen to, Stella," Danny said, then took another drink.

Just then, Mac stuck his head in the door. " Hey Danny, I need to speak with you a moment. My office." Then he was gone.

Danny almost choked on his soda this time. Setting it down, he wiped his mouth, looking nervously from Aiden to Stella.

" Uh-oh," Aiden whispered with a grimace of pity.

" I'll watch your lunch," Stella said, sitting adjacent to Aiden.

Danny got up and pointed at Aiden, giving her a meaningful look. " Make sure she doesn't eat any of it."

Aiden just smiled and Danny knew that he would be returning to fewer chips and less sandwich.

Outwardly, Danny tried to walk with casual ease as though inside his spine was not really stiff enough to snap. He had stuck by his decision to finish the homeless-man statue case, and would continue to stick by it. That did not mean the fact that he had gone behind Mac's back to do so did not make him squirm. He had been in the wrong, so Mac had every right to be upset about it no matter what Danny's reasoning.

Danny entered Mac's office, his heart picking up a quicker beat. He could not say if this were about the case or not, but feared it was and that some further reprimand was about to be laid out.

" Sit down," Mac said, his tone and face unreadable, though Danny could have sworn he saw a hint of anger in Mac's eyes.

Danny dropped into the seat to lean forward with his arms on his knees and his hands folded loosely together. A muscle in his back twitched with tension.

" Yeah Mac?"

Mac slid a thick file toward Danny. " That's everything there is to know on the Hangman murders. Read up on it, memorize it, know it like the back of your hand."

Danny sat up to take the file, looking from it to Mac. He smiled as the tension leaked out of him. " That's what this is about? Is everyone getting their own file?"

Mac sat back in his chair, causing it to creak. " Yes. But, no, that's not what this is about. Things are going to be handled differently this time. A CSI is going to be assigned to each detective and whoever else is on the case. You go where they go, come when they call, that sort of thing. You've already been assigned."

" Yeah? To who?"

Mac looked Danny straight in the eyes when he next spoke. " Detective Stan Mavin."

The name struck a chord of familiarity but Danny could not recall from where. " The name rings a bell…"

" He was the one on the ATM case. He came looking for you last week."

It finally came back to Danny. His heart seemed to plummet into his gut, while at the same time his blood boiled with anger. " The one who thought that meat-head on the paper was actually me? Who the hll assigned me to him?"

He wasn't going to accuse Mac of it. He knew Mac wouldn't have done that.

" Mavin did, actually," Mac said. " He wouldn't take anyone else. He just wanted you."

Danny sat back in the chair, rubbing his mouth then the back of his neck. He looked about in agitation, wondering nervously what Mavin was up to and if it had anything to do with what happened last week. If the man held grudges, then Danny might have a lot to be nervous about.

" Did he say why he wanted me?" Danny asked looking back to Mac.

Mac shook his head. " Not really."

They fell into silence though it was obvious from the troubled look on Mac's face that there was more to be said. This made Danny's heart sink a little further. He already knew what a scumbag Mavin could be so there shouldn't have been any more to say on the matter.

" Danny," Mac finally said, sounding subdued. " I'm not going to lie to you. The guy's a creep. He's also cold, uncaring, and may run you ragged before even a week is up. I didn't work with him directly, but the few times I did I regret. He likes to talk trash, and he likes to get under your skin. I can tell you now this is not going to be easy. But I know you can handle him. You're not a push over and you know what to put up with and what not to. But if you find yourself unable to deal with him anymore then tell me and I'll assign you to someone else if I can. Just don't let it end with you knocking him flat and ending up on probation."

Danny nodded. He could do that. He knew how to handle trash talk and guys who couldn't learn when to get out of another's face.

" Is that why you don't like him?" Danny asked curiously. " Because he said something?"

" Let's just say he made things difficult, and actually ended up causing someone to quit though I'm not sure what was said or done to make it happen. He also blames us for Detective Myers' death."

Danny leaned forward again. " The cop who was killed? Was she his partner?"

" She was in charge of the case. She had set up a sting, sending out female cops undercover to clubs and bars to see if they could lure the guy into the open. It went on for two months and didn't work. Then Myers didn't show up for work in two days. She was found hanging from a tree in her back yard with her throat cut like our latest victim. Mavin said this wouldn't have happened if we had dug deeper, gone farther. I was never certain what he meant by that. We went as far as we dared and ended up losing one of our own."

" So then what led you to Lynals?" Danny asked next.

" He was at several of the clubs our undercover officers staked. We'd also questioned him earlier about his neighbor, our fifth vic. We went back to question him and found him dumping the box. But that's just a summary. Everything you need to know is in that file and trust me when I say you had better have it memorized. Mavin was the most adamant about Lynals not being our guy. He never believed it and I don't think he ever stopped searching. He'll make life miserable for you if you're not on top of things."

Danny briefly wondered if this were some sort of strange punishment for not listening to Mac. However, Mac appeared genuinely worried, and that made Danny worry. There was probably more to Mavin than Mac was saying, but it was nothing that could be put into words, only witnessed.

" So… um… when does this little pair up start?"

" Depends on whatever happens next. He'll call you."

Danny's heart sank once more, faster than led in water. " He's got my number. Great."

Mac wore a sympathetic expression as he regarded Danny. " Not much of a choice in the matter. I offered to go with him myself but he wasn't up on the idea. Look, Danny, I'm sorry if I seem like I'm trying to scare you. But I'm not; I'm just warning you. It isn't going to be easy working with Mavin. It's not like he's psychotic, he's just… a jerk, which is the only way I can put it."

Danny shrugged indifferently though inside he was already seething at the prospect of having to face Mavin again. He'd probably start in on Danny never having joined the Tanglewood boys and surviving it.

" No problem. We put up with what we have to in order to get the job done, right?"

Looking apologetic, Mac inclined his head in agreement. It was most likely time to end this conversation before Danny was given any more to worry about.

" We done then?"

Mac inclined his head again. " Yeah. You sure you don't have a problem with this?"

Danny stood up from the chair, still holding the file. " Not really, but I'll deal. It's not like it'll kill me to work with the guy, right?" He flinched inwardly at his own words and quickly left, mumbling under his breath. " At least it sure as hll better not."

CSINY

Mac watched Danny leave through the window, then stood to head out and have his own lunch, feeling a slight inkling of guilt buzz at the back of his mind. No one should have to work with Mavin, especially on this case. He was even more obsessive than Danny. Mac recalled clearly times when Mavin would burst into the lab or the morgue, demanding information, even verbally abusing people if they didn't hop to his commands or have what he needed when he needed it. It had been bad, and that was when Mavin had been heaping his anger on the multitudes. Mac could only imagine with a knot of unease growing in his stomach what it would be like for Danny as a target for Mavin's spontaneous rages. Danny would not back down, Mac was certain of that. So the only other alternative would be that it would lead to violence. Mac trusted in Danny, but Mavin had a way about him that at one time almost brought Mac to decking the man a few times himself, and Mac had always thought himself the disciplined type.

As Mac left his office Flack joined him.

" Going to lunch?" The young detective asked.

" Something quick. Care to tag along?"

Flack shook his head. " Naw, just ate. Hey, I saw Detective Mavin leaving when I walked in a while ago. He assigned already?"

" Yes."

Flack looked at Mac with a slight squint. " You don't look too happy. What'd he say?"

" Nothing. He just wanted a CSI at his beck and call, that's all," Mac replied with apparent distaste.

" Oh yeah? Who's the unlucky one?"

" Danny."

Flack winced. " Ouch. I feel sorry for him already. Mavin's gonna skin him alive, I'm telling you now."

At this, Mac stopped only a few feet from the building's entrance, turning to look at Flack.

" What do you mean 'skin him alive'?"

Flack scratched his head, looking toward the doors and into the bright day.

" I don't know Mavin personally, but we all know him as the guy who can't keep a partner worth his life. His recent partner, Detective Diega, never works with him. Mavin has a way of…"

" Getting under the skin?" Mac asked.

" Kind of. More like disturbing everyone. There's talk that goes around saying that Mavin handles suspects with violence, he has no consideration for his partners, tends to leave them behind. It's like he's always on the brink of something bad but knows how to keep from going over the edge. He does things his own way. And he's always rough on the new guys, treats them like dirt, ends up making them request a transfer. Mavin calls it picking the strong from the weak. Skinning - he breaks them down, lays them out, tests them to their limits, and if they quit it's because they weren't meant for the job. I'm not sure exactly what it is he does to them, and they never really stick around to explain it. I don't know Mac. The guy's weird. Always has been, at least since I joined the force. It can't really be explained what it is about him, except to say that he probably should have retired already."

Mac sighed quietly. " Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

" Because Mavin generates bad feelings?"

" Any positive aspects about Mavin?"

Flack laughed. " I'll have to get back to you on that one. May take a few hundred years to find out."


	5. A Little Extra Info

Thanks to everyone who has commented. I'm so glad to see so many enjoying this story. I really am enjoying writing it. I normally write fantasies but have a few mysteries in mind, and writing this story is good practice. And rest assured I will be staying with this story until I'm finished. For once, I have an ending in mind, and one I'm looking forward to. I'm usually bad with figuring out endings. I have too many stories left hanging because I don't know how they end. Not this time!

Ch. 4

A Little Extra Info

Danny was surprised at himself. He had thought - rather shallowly he had to admit- that the files would be a fascinating read, like some suspense novel. What he found was the endless data of DNA, blood, locations, the weight, height, ages of the victims, and the like. The profiles of the women painted him a repetitive picture of those either depressed, lonely, or over zealous about partying. The men were neither lonely nor depressed, but _were_ zealous about good times. Those men that were not big on clubs and the dating scene had died, most likely, due to the fault of being quick-tempered. The speculation was that they had been lured to the place where they were killed, either drunk or in search of the guy that had upset them by saying something that was completely misinterpreted.

The killer's profile was sketchy and incomplete, made up mostly of a bunch of psychobabble. The guy supposedly had a split personality, thus the two-headed serpent looking away. He had a predatory nature (but then what serial killer didn't) and a methodical mind. He was most likely a neat freak, which was why there was so little evidence and blood. He liked attention as well as control, so would send out letters to bring police to the body when the killer wanted, or detour the police to decoy sights though the reason for this was still unknown. The killings, letters, and the sign of the snake, according to the profiler's report, were probably cries for help. He wanted to be caught, but not by his own accord.

Danny was no profiler, but much of his job had him getting into people's heads when trying to figure out what happened and why. He had yet to fully dissect everything he had read over and already he found the profiler's assessment of the killer a load of crap. It was too generic, too simple, and could probably fit any killer from the Son of Sam to Ted Bundy.

All in all, it was dull reading. He felt a little guilty about thinking this way and also thinking that the profile would have talked about someone more akin to Hannibal Lector. He had been excited, but mostly due to never having worked a case of this caliber before. It was like taking part in history. Danny had known better than to give in to such feelings, but all feelings always had a way of coming unbidden

Monotonous though the reading was, it still got Danny's mind working, especially those few interesting aspects of the case that stood out. For one, the killer was quick about his victims. There would come two in a week, then a week where there were no deaths, then two again the week after. The times of deaths put the bodies at two to three days apart, so the conclusion was that during the times when there were no deaths the killer was stalking his next targets. He had killed fifteen people, with Detective Myers being the last. What was most interesting was that before she died the killer had not reared his unknown head the entire time the undercover cops had been sent out. Obviously he'd known what was going down.

Then there were the traps such as trip wires, animal traps, various chemicals that irritated the skin or damaged the lungs, and even children's stuff like slippery substances on stairs or heavy objects that had cracked a few skulls. The profile attributed this to the killer's self-assessment of being a predator.

To Danny, it sounded more as though the killer was toying with the cops, and the traps were for extra laughs. There had been no traps found at the recent crime scene, but not every single one of the previous scenes held traps, including the very first killing. If the guy was a stickler for routine, then this recent death could be seen as a 'starting over' phase for the Hangman.

" Hey Danny!"

Danny snapped his head up at the sound of Aiden's voice shattering his glass box of concentration. She was walking by his desk with her jacket on and her purse hanging loosely from one shoulder.

" Go home already. You don't have to read that here."

Danny looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock, and he had started in on the file a little after lunch. It startled him, especially since his intention had been to look the file over at a glance. Dull reading though it was it had hooked him none the less.

" Dang," he said, feeling a little disoriented. He was also hungry, and knew he would be too tired when he got home to cook anything. He closed the file and stood up to suffer the temporary darkness that covered the eyes when the blood rushed to the head. He waited a moment in slight annoyance for the thing to pass, then snatched up the file and headed to the locker room for his stuff. As he did, his cell rang.

He answered it as politely as he could, his head throbbing from having sat still the whole day.

" Messer here."

" Hey, Messer. It's me, Stan Mavin."

Danny slowed and his chest tightened. A sarcastic reply was all ready to spill from his mouth, but he pushed it back. If he had to work with this guy than he might as well try to make it easy on himself.

" Yeah?" he said, still trying to push for politeness.

" Did Mac tell you about the arrangement?"

" Yeah?"

" Good, 'cause guess what, it's time to start. I need you over at my place."

At this, Danny stopped walking all together. " I was just heading out."

" Great, come as soon as you can. We need to get this over with.

Once again, Danny's heart took another nose-dive into his guts. " Get what over with?"

" Bringing you up to speed on this case. Shouldn't take long I think. But if this is our guy then another body's going to show up at any day and we need to be ready for it."

This sounded cold to Danny. He did not know why, but it seemed to him that preparing for the next body was the same as giving up on ever stopping the guy. It sounded as though no one was even attempting to prevent the next death from happening, though in truth there was nothing they could do. What made it even more sickening was Mavin's chipper tone as he spoke.

Danny swallowed back his distaste before he said something he would probably regret.

" You sure we have to do this tonight? Can't we start in the morning?"

He could here Mavin's quiet chuckle like a hiss on the other end, and it made Danny's spine prickle with irritation. " What, you gotta be in bed by nine or something Messer? The night's still young. Besides, the sooner you get here the sooner we can get this over with."

" Why now? Why not tomorrow?" Danny pressed.

" Why not now? I work best at night anyway, always have. I'm not much for sleeping. I'd rather do this now. I got all the stuff ready you need to see."

Danny wanted to say no. He had every reason to say no. It was late, he was hungry, and had already read everything he needed to know about the case. Yet a quiet warning in the back of his mind nagged against it. If he were going to put up with this guy then he would have to go along with him. Danny had resolved not to do anything that would set Mavin off, and in turn cause him to set Danny off. Going against Mavin now, this early in to things, would certainly set him off in a way Danny knew he would regret.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed them with one hand, pushing his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. " Okay. What's your address." Danny was already regretting.

CSINY

Mavin's place wasn't an easy find. His directions took Danny toward Brooklyn and into a quiet neighborhood of apartments dotted by rows of darkened windows. Mavin's building was the one with a playground out front and across the street. Danny was surprised, and a little disturbed, to see three girls in their early teens sitting on the swings. They were talking and laughing loudly, their voices sharp and reverberating for the whole world to hear.

Danny parked the car in an empty space in front of the building. As he got out he looked toward the three minors as they swayed on the swings with their arms wrapped loosely around the chains. Two were African-American and the other a brown-haired Caucasian. Danny's thoughts flashed back to cases involving teenage girls last seen walking with friends late at night, and his stomach knotted in discomfort.

" Shouldn't you girls be inside somewhere?" Danny called to them. The three girl's stopped their shrill chatting to look at Danny like one would an annoying little brother or nosey parent. It was a look worn by all teens, even Danny at one time. His mother had aptly christened it the 'what-ever' expression.

" Little late," he added.

The brown-haired girl rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation. Danny sighed. He would need to keep his ears open for any screams while he was here.

Danny moved up the sidewalk to the front entrance with its short flight of steps and iron bars behind the glass doors. He pressed the call button for Mavin's apartment and swallowed back another momentary rise of annoyance at being called in so late.

" Hey Mavin it's Messer. Came to get this over with like you said," Danny said with more vexation in his voice than he had intended. He cringed slightly at this.

There came a buzz, then a click. Danny quickly went in before the door locked again. Inside the air was stuffy compared to the cooler air outside, and held a faint mildew smell common to most old places. The architecture of the place reminded Danny of something built during the thirties or forties, with a wooden staircase to his right and a floor covered by a stained, overly patterned green, yellow, and cream-colored carpet. The lights of the complex spilled from hanging lamps covered by green shades, some of which were cracked or totally broken.

Danny shook his head. If a place was going to be kept stuck in a time warp then it should at least be maintained enough not appear abandoned as well.

Danny went up the stairs to the second floor then down the green-tinted hall to the door marked two-ten. Taking a deep, readying breath, Danny knocked and waited.

" Not locked," came a voice muffled by the door. Danny went in.

Mavin's place was small, probably smaller than Danny's own place. The kitchen was across the way, separated from the living room by the counter. To the left of the kitchen was a small hallway with two doors, one the bedroom most likely and the other the bathroom. The living room was plain, with brown carpeting, a fading black leather couch, and a TV on a wooden table. On the left side of the room was a metal foldable table buried under papers and files with a filing box rising out of the center.

All in all, it was a bachelor pad to the worst degree. The man didn't even have any pictures or posters on the wall. Even those living the single life had pictures, either of friends, family, or just artwork. Danny's own place would feel empty without the pictures he had of his parents and siblings. Mavin's place felt like a cheap motel room. It even smelled like one. The air tasted stale and was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke. Coupled with the many dirty ashtrays, Danny could safely assume that Mavin was a heavy smoker.

The only thing missing from Mavin's place was Mavin himself. Then, as though Danny's thoughts were readable, the older detective stepped out from the left-hand door down the hall. He was carrying two stuffed files in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He had the appearance of someone who had just got off work, both tieless and shoeless.

He made for the table, tossing the file onto the stack then taking a drag from his cigarette, never once giving Danny a glance of acknowledgement. Danny held his breath when Mavin blew the smoke out through his nose. The smoke still seeped into Danny's lungs, and he pretended to clear his throat to help stifle the cough. Mavin finally took notice of him and held up his cigarette.

" Want one?"

Danny shook his head. " I don't smoke," he replied pointedly. Mavin shrugged and took another drag.

" Glad you could make it, Messer. This really shouldn't take long."

Danny looked incredulously at the mess on the table. " Yeah, sure."

Mavin looked at Danny's hand holding the file Mac had given him. Mavin smirked and gestured to the file.

" That all the Hangman info you got?"

Danny held the file up for a second then dropped his arm. " Yeah, why?"

Mavin snorted out a laugh. " You honestly think you're gonna know this case from a file that small? Messer, that thing ain't even worth spitting gum in."

Danny looked back to the mess, stifling back a sudden surge of depression. He gestured at it with his free hand. " All that the Hangman case?"

" Everything I've ever gathered," Mavin replied, picking out a stack of papers and flipping through them. He dropped them then took the cigarette from his mouth to snuff it in a glass ashtray, much to Danny's relief.

Danny moved closer to the table and looked the papers over. For the most part, they looked to be notes hastily scribbled. Others were police and crime lab reports.

" So what's in all this that isn't in what I read?"

" What isn't? Want a beer or something?" Mavin asked.

No, I want to go home, have dinner, and go to bed you inconsiderate A-hole, Danny thought nastily. He shook his head. Mavin shrugged again, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

" Sit down Messer," he said. Messer pulled out one of the blue-vinyl backed chairs and sat. Mavin grinned at him.

" So, you already read over that crap they handed you? Did it make you laugh too?"

Danny stared at Mavin uncertainly. Mavin just laughed.

" You look a little tense, Messer. Sure you don't wanna drink?"

" I just want to know what it is I'm missing. What you know," he held up the file, " that they don't."

" Glad to hear it. 'Cause here's the thing, Messer. No scrawny police file is going to tell you what you need to know about this case. The last profiler to work it was a quack, a wanna-be. The profile you got is nothing but a school report for a psyche class. What that sick SOB is doing isn't no cry for help. The whole thing's a game to him. He's messin' with us and lovin' it. He's trying to prove himself better than us, smarter than us. He's out to enjoy himself."

Danny furrowed his brow. " That your conclusion or your opinion?"

" It's a fact. He's also a control freak. That's why he sends the letters. He wants us finding the bodies when he wants and how he wants. Only the first body is a freebie to get things started."

" If this is our guy," Danny added as a reminder.

" Oh it is, Messer. You just wait until that second body. That'll prove it. Then the letters'll start coming and the game'll really begin."

" Okay then. So what is it I need to know that I don't yet?"

Mavin dug through the piles and pulled out a manila folder. He tossed it over to Danny. Danny took it and leafed through it. The papers inside contained names that had not been on the victims list.

" Who are these guys?"

" Lackeys. The killer used them to deliver the letters. Gang-bangers for the most part, plus a few nobody's, all looking to make an extra buck. Supposedly the letters would come to them, along with a small wad of cash or a scrap of useful info on a rival gang. That's all these boys would say. Most went along with it for the money, others because they were scared. He never used the same guys twice but would rotate periodically between them. The one we need to keep the closer eye on is the one called Jake."

Danny pulled out the paper when he came to it. It was an old file from when Jake was thirty-four, so he would now be around thirty-seven. His picture revealed a sharp-featured, long-faced guy with stringy brown hair that looked to be thinning. His face was pale but his dark-blue eyes were clear and smug. He had been wearing a heavy jean jacket at the time the picture was taken, with a red scarf underneath.

" He's the Hangman's pet," Mavin explained. " Before going to a gang member, the letters went through him. Took us forever to find him. The guy's a snake if there ever was one. No matter who we put on him we never could find the one dropping off the letters. We staked his place, tapped his phone, and nothin'. If Jake knew the killer personally, we never found out. Jake loved to a sick degree helping the Hangman and nothing we said or did could make him change his mind. The guy's got a bad case of hero worship, and he knows how to play the game."

Danny's immediate impression of Jake was that he did not look like the type who could elude police in any way. But Danny knew better than to trust in first impressions.

" When we showed a picture of Lynals to Jake, Jake fingered him. That right there was the proof that Lynals wasn't our guy. Too bad it wasn't the kind of proof the courts could use."

Mavin lit another cigarette, took a puff, then leaned forward. Danny was once again forced to momentarily hold his breath as Mavin blew out the smoke.

" Here's the thing," Stan continued, gesturing with his cigarette hand. " You see, a lot of the letters had us goin' to places that weren't even crime scenes. We'd search the place over and never find crap except for the occasional trap. I think that's when the letter exchanges took place. Jake always made it a point to go out on those nights, but he also went all over the place, especially to places that were crowded. Now, whether he was meeting the killer personally or talkin' to another lackey, we've yet to find out. Jake seems to have a lot of friends. But there's no doubt in my mind that he met the killer and the two arranged the whole letter exchange deal. Hll, I wouldn't be surprised if Jake was our killer. Split personality, right? Probably hero-worshipping an alter ego."

Danny looked up at Mavin curiously. " So why hasn't anyone talked to him yet?"

" Oh we will. You see, my theory was a little shot down after we arrested him, held him, and another body showed up along with a letter delivered by another guy. I still hold to the theory, but its credibility is a little shot if you know what I mean. Besides, Jake isn't the kind of guy a chick would go for no matter how depressed or lonely. Too much of a weasel with a mouth."

" If this is a copy-cat deal then would Jake be our guy?" Danny asked next. Mavin lifted a shoulder in a shrug and inhaled more nicotine.

" Maybe."

" Why don't we bring him in then?"

" 'Cause this ain't a copy-cat killing."

Danny took a deep breath, which was a mistake. Smoke entered into his lungs, burning the sensitive membrane and causing him to cough hard.

" Sorry 'bout that," Mavin said, crushing the cigarette into the tray, his mouth turned up in a slight grin. Danny just glared at him while still hacking the offending smoke from himself.

" We don't know that it isn't a copy-cat," Danny said between coughs.

Mavin narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Danny's face, then leaned in toward Danny. " Kid, I know this case better than I know my ex-wife. I will say this once, only once, and then I never want to have to say it again. This is _not_ a copy-cat."

Mavin's stone-hard gaze bore into Danny like a drill. His words held not only steely conviction but what Danny thought was a threat. The urge to argue with Mavin, to make him see all possibilities, felt like a geyser ready to rip from his throat. But Danny was too tired to try and reason with Mavin without it turning heated. Beside that, Danny knew there would be no reasoning with him, and it would only turn all that much worse should Mavin be proven right.

Danny held up one hand in forced defeat though he met Mavin's gaze straight on, drilling back. " All right, it's not a copy cat killing. And I have to admit I'm kind of with you on Jake being the guy. It sounds pretty reasonable. But then again I never met the man. If it's not him then maybe he got the letters by e-mail or something."

Mavin's smirk returned. " The man doesn't have a computer."

Danny shrugged. " Had to cover all the bases. He got a cell?"

" Last time I dealt with him, yeah. And I know what you're thinking. Maybe he was lead to the letters over a cell. Stands to reason. It's why the idea of Jake being our killer is just a theory. Ever work a serial killing before Messer?"

Danny shook his head. " Not like this. I mean we had a few get pretty far, but not as far as this Hangman creep got. I've seen some pretty nasty stuff…"

" That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if you've ever helped in a case involving a murderer who makes no sense then after a time makes far too much sense than you care to realize."

Danny looked at Mavin oddly. " Not that I know of."

" And there lies our problem, Messer. You don't know. You have an idea but you don't know. The kind of killer we're dealing with is the kind that'll mess with your head. And the only way to keep up with him is to try to get into his. You have to try and understand every little pointless piece of crap about him. You have to be willing to assume, to make a few guesses, and trudge on even when you're wrong. You have to let things happen before you can say for certain what's going to happen next. A lot of people are going to die before we get anywhere, I can promise you that. That's the first thing you're going to have to put up with. You can't afford to get all-emotional about anything. People become evidence and that's it. Get used to it, I'm telling you now. It's going to be bad."

Danny continued to stare at Mavin oddly. The detective's words could have easily been passed off as obsessive ravings, but Mavin had backed them, once again, with that solid conviction. He meant them, every word, and Danny could not deny it. Already they were seeping into his brain to be pondered over at a quieter time. Or, perhaps, he was simply more tired than he realized.

Mavin pulled another cigarette from his pocket. " You'll get it eventually, though. We all did. It's a game. You have to play it, and you have to do whatever you can to win."

" Like Myers?" Danny asked. It was an innocent question, at least to him it had been. Mavin had put the cigarette to his lips and was about to light it but paused. He rolled his cold eyes up at Danny. Anger flashed within them, quick as lightening.

" Yeah, like Myers."

Danny winced inwardly. " I didn't mean…"

" Forget it," Mavin said, finally lighting. He inhaled it, but this time turned his head to exhale. He shrugged. " She lost." Mavin let the words hang in the air. After a moment he turned back to Danny and began telling him about the old crime scenes and the various manners of bloody death the victims had suffered.

CSINY

Danny felt stiff all over and his head felt light as he made his way back to his car. As an afterthought, he looked toward the playground, but found it to be empty. The girls had gone. At least he hoped they had gone and he wouldn't be seeing them again sprawled on the ground surrounded by police tape.

He found it surreal how empty and quiet everything was, as though the entire city had heard the conversation between the detective and CSI, so locked themselves away in the safety of their own homes. It had never bothered Danny before if he was the only person out on the streets at night somewhere. The fact that he carried a gun had always aided his confidence. But even with his gun at his side, a chill still ripped up his spine, and his back felt strangely exposed. Danny glanced reflexively over his shoulder though he had heard nothing. He did feel something, though. He felt as though he were being watched. It was a feeling he was familiar with, though in truth he had never grown used to it. His family had been under surveillance since as far back as he could remember. There had always been eyes upon them somewhere out of sight, but never out of presence.

This time it was different. It _felt_ different, which was the only way he could put it. It was a feeling he could not describe in words, it simply was. He shuddered when he came to his car, and was quicker than usual about unlocking in. Once he got inside, tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he closed the door and locked it.

Mavin's words were getting to him. Mavin was getting to him, and this was only day one of them working together. Danny tensed his jaw in anger as he jammed the key into the ignition.

" Psycho, son of a…" he mumbled, starting the car with a loud squeal of protest from the engine. Mavin was making him paranoid, and had probably given him lung cancer to boot.

" He is out to get me," Danny said, and backed out of the space.

Note to Readers

I apologize for not going into more detail on the small bit of info concerning Danny's past. I learned of it after reading the character bio of Danny on the CSI website and decided to use it to help the story along (you'll see how as the story progresses). I know I have creative licensing and could make something up about Danny's family, but in truth I want to see where the show goes with it before using it in anything. I would like my story to be as close as to how the show is done as possible. I'm a stickler that way. I will mention this aspect of Danny's life again, but the details will be sketchy so don't expect much.


	6. No Rest for Anyone

Note: I had to revise chapter three since I didn't know song lyrics were allowed. Just a heads up should you go back for any reason. It saddens me, really. The song lyrics fit in well for what I have planned. And thanks again for the many reviews. I cannot give enough thanks, really. I'd give fruit baskets, but I can't so here are some imaginary ones.

Ch. 5

No Rest for Anyone

No rest for the weary, no rest for the wicked, no rest for the good, and no rest for the bad. If Danny could call going to bed at one in the morning and waking up four hours later rest. It was said that the body needed at least eight hours of sleep to be fully rejuvenated, and Danny tried to sleep that much when he could. He got by on less when needed, but today waking up seemed particularly painful. The ringing of his cell, small sound though it was, still became the equivalent of a drill burrowing into his brain to drain it of dreams.

Danny reached out to the bedside table and groped until his hand finally landed on the obnoxious little plastic whiner. He then propped himself up on one elbow, placing the phone to his ear and blinking the dryness from his eyes.

" Messer," he said with a poor attempt at sounding awake. His room was a mess of blurred, shadowy shapes outlined by the wan blue light of the approaching day.

" Messer, it's Stan."

Danny collapsed back onto his bed with a sharp sigh, massaging his aching eyes with one hand. " Yeah, Mavin, what's up?"

" Well, you for one thing. Or at least you'd better be. A new body was found; night shift called it in. I'm heading over there now and I want you to meet me. Got pen and paper ready for the address?"

Danny sat up, snatching his glasses from the table and placing them on his face. He then clicked on his lamp and rummaged through his desk until he found a pencil and a scrap of paper that appeared to be an old receipt.

" What is it?" Danny asked in a flat tone that betrayed his irritation. Mavin rambled off an address, then directions on how to get to the place.

" I may be a while," Danny said. " I need to check in at the crime lab first."

" Whatever, Messer. Just hurry."

With that, Mavin hung up. His mind still too foggy for him to even properly scowl, Danny tossed the phone onto the bed then fell back onto his pillow, using both hands to rub his face.

" I'll hurry when you put a gun to my head and make me," Danny murmured darkly. He then forced himself from the warmth of bed before he could slip back into the sweet oblivion of dreams. Following that, he did everything he needed to in getting ready except hurry.

CSINY

Danny arrived at the scene of the new killing around six a.m., feeling rather smug. He had been slow about coming, but Mavin would never know for certain if it had been deliberate, which was how Danny wanted it.

The new crime scene was the basement of a cheap looking apartment complex with few tenants and a landlord who didn't really care about much. The landlord had discovered the body after several of the tenants began complaining of an odd stench coming from the heating ducts. It wasn't until the landlord smelled it himself that he finally went down, only to run back up and call the police.

The basement was small but still a maze of rooms all poorly lit and smelling of mold. The cement floor was stained in water, and rust stretched like dried blood from the ceiling to the floor.

A uniformed cop took Danny through the water-damaged rooms to the far back where the heating and cooling system hummed monotonously. There, hanging from exposed rafters by a twisted bed sheet stained dark red, was a stiff and somewhat bloated body. Below it was a metal wash basin like the kind women would use to clean clothes before washing machines were invented. Strangely, however, the basin was only splattered with blood and not filled with it, and the blood appeared dry.

The body was the first sight Danny's eyes went to, and for a moment he noticed little else around him.

" Hey Messer, what took you?" an angry Mavin demanded from the left-hand side of the room. He was facing the concrete wall, shining his flashlight on the two-headed serpent scrawled there. He was staring at Danny contemptuously as though the young man had personally offended him with his presence. Danny, suppressing a pleased smirk, shrugged.

" I said it might take a while."

Mavin just shook his head in a disgusted way.

Danny set his kit down by the door but not the camera around his neck thumping against his chest whenever he moved. He checked it, making sure there was film, then lit the shadowy room up in white-lightening flashes as he took pictures of the gory mess. The body was of another young woman; this one with dark red hair cut shoulder length. She was wearing a sleeveless pink, knee-length dress that looked uncomfortably tight, though that was mostly due to the fact that her body had swelled in the onset of decay.

" That's weird," Danny murmured to himself. But in the small room not even a whisper could go unnoticed. Mavin was at Danny's side in a heartbeat.

" What? What's weird?"

Danny began circling the body, studying the graying flesh and the dark blue web-work of veins. He bent to look beneath the hair at the pasty white face with the clouded eyes and gaping mouth.

" She's been here a while."

Mavin snorted. " Gee, doc, you figure that out all by yourself? The landlord said they smelled something nasty comin' up from the vents. I don't think nasty smells like that come in a day."

Danny straightened, narrowing his eyes at Mavin. " You don't see it Mavin? The first body Mac and Stella found? Obviously, that ain't the first death, this one is. How many days were the people here smellin' something foul?"

" It started the day before yesterday."

Danny nodded. " Two days. Add an extra when the body was put down here, plus all the moisture, mold, and heat. That would speed up decay pretty quick. Ten to one when Hawkes takes a look at her he'll mark her death at three days ago, give or take. So congrats, Mavin, you're actually working the first killing," Danny finished with a hint of his own disgust.

Mavin's mouth quirked up in a lop-sided grin. " You're better than I thought, Messer. But you think I didn't know that? Any idiot could tell how long this corpse has been here."

Mavin pushed the body's leg with his gloved finger, getting it to sway a little and cause the rafters to creak. A cold thrill of alarm shot through Danny's blood.

" Don't do that," he stated heatedly.

" Do what? Touch the body?"

" Yeah, Mavin, touch the body. You're messin' with the crime scene," Danny snapped with a sudden rush of desire to slug the guy. Was Mavin messing with him or was he actually a moron? Danny was leaning toward the latter.

Mavin shoved his hands into the pocket of his brown over coat. " Messer, you really need to learn to chill here. You got what you needed; 'cause in all truth pictures are all you're gonna get. Go ahead; swab away, stick your nose to the floor and body to sniff out hairs, prints, and semen. You're not going to find anything. We're done here, I promise you that. But, go ahead and try."

Mavin's unwavering certainty was gnawing at Danny's already fiery nerves. Danny managed a nonchalant shrug as part of his response. " I intend to."

Danny went on with his picture taking. He looked away from the body only once to see Aiden walk in purposefully and apparently well rested.

" Need any help?" she asked, setting her kit down across from Danny's. Danny held up the camera.

" Got the pictures. You could take some blood from the wall."  
Aiden nodded and opened her kit to retrieve a few swabs.

Mavin eyed Aiden as though she were a bad piece of meat. " Who the hll sent you?"

Aiden brushed past Mavin without looking at him. " Mac. He wants two forensics working the scenes."

Mavin looked at Danny accusingly as though this were somehow his fault. Danny responded with a challenging gaze of his own, giving the man a reply through eyes alone that said 'yeah, she's here, she's going to help, get over it.' Neither backed down nor even flicked their eyes until Flack walked in, drawing Mavin's cold attention. A bitter smile split the older detective's face.

" Mac sent you too?"

Flack smiled back just as sourly. " Yeah, nice to see you too Mavin. I'm here with Burn. Is that okay with you or am I invading too much of your space? 'Cause you can leave if I am."

Danny couldn't help a small smile at this. Mavin held up his hands, his scathing grin becoming a more pleasant smile. " Not at all. Feel free to invade, I don't care. My boy Messer here's doin' most of the work anyway."

Mavin's last statement made Danny strangely nervous. The last thing he needed was for a competition to break out between teams that would have everyone turning against him. He looked at Flack, but Flack was too busy having his own stare-off with Mavin. So he looked at Aiden with an apology spilling from his gaze. Aiden shrugged one shoulder in a silent show of 'don't worry about it.'

Flack shook his head. " You're really full of it, Mavin, you know that?" He held his arms out to either side. " This isn't a competition. Let's stay on the same team here." Flack said this genuinely enough but Mavin shook his head in a cynical manner.

The exchange made Danny wonder, and not for the first time, what it was that made Mavin out to be such a jerk. Was it natural, did he really want people to hate him, or was there a whole history behind it? Danny favored history, a history involving the murdered detective. Then again, Mac had said the guy was a jerk even before then. But had he always been? Was it an ex-wife issue?

Danny did not know why he was thinking this over. It was not as though knowing would make a difference, and Danny wasn't into the whole psychologically searching the depths of someone's emotions to understand their behavior. Whatever Mavin's reasons for being a jerk, the fact remained that he was still a jerk.

Mavin turned to focus his attention on Aiden. As Danny headed to his kit to move it closer to the body, he watched Mavin out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the leer he was sure would spread over the older detective's face. He seemed the type to leer when looking at a woman. Danny was hoping Mavin would so that Aiden would lay out some of her Brooklyn-born attitude on him. When Aiden held her own it was like poetry, as well as art, since it was as much fun to watch as it was to listen to. There was very little in the world that could intimidate Aiden Burn.

Danny picked up his kit and moved back to the body. He continued to watch Mavin as Mavin observed Aiden. There came no leer, only a deep, profound scrutiny. Mavin wasn't simply watching Aiden to be watching her. It was more like he was making certain she did everything she was supposed to, the way she was supposed to.

" Hope you got lots of pictures of that snake, Messer," Mavin said without taking his eyes off Aiden. Danny had to hand it to the man. He truly was serious about this case.

CSINY

Mavin had freed Danny from the invisible shackles binding them, and let him and Aiden head back to the crime lab with the body. Flack and Mavin were staying behind to question the tenants.

Once back at the lab with the body safely in Hawkes' possession, Danny and Aiden went to hand the blood off to Mac and Stella. Danny would have liked to deal with the blood himself, but they had scoured the scene for the better part of the day. It was lunchtime and he was hungry, so he followed Aiden to the break room.

" So," Aiden began conversationally, " having fun yet?" They entered the break room, and Danny yanked open the fridge to grab the sack containing the sandwich he had bought before coming.

" Total blast," he replied, trying to slam the fridge door, but Aiden caught it to get her salad. Danny turned and tossed the sack onto the table, then pulled out the chair and dropped into it.

" He really get to you that bad?" Aiden asked, sitting more gently in the seat across from Danny. Danny shook his head as he opened the bag and pulled out the sub.

" No, I'm just kind of tired. He had me up half the night telling me horror stories about the Hangman."

Before taking a bite, Aiden arched her eyebrow. " That's it? I only met the man today and I was ready to deck him. He sounds so freakin' sure of himself…" she shook her head and shoved lettuce and a crouton into her mouth.

Danny unwrapped his sandwich slowly so it wouldn't fall apart. " We've dealt with creeps before."

Aiden started slightly in surprise. " Wow, Messer, you're really taking this in stride. I thought of all people you'd be the one to lay him on his butt first."

Danny glared at Aiden under a lowered brow. " Gee, thanks for the faith Aid."

Unfazed, Aiden took a sip from her bottle of ice tea. " Come on Danny. Even you have to admit that you get wound a little tight sometimes. Don't take it personally, it's just the way you are. You don't put up with a lot of crap, which isn't a bad thing. I don't like putting up with crap. But out of the two of us you're normally the one to react… unnecessarily, I suppose you could say."

Danny bristled at this, holding his glare on Aiden though she continued to brush it aside as though it weren't even there.

" Sorry Danny, it's the truth. You're doing it right now."

Danny's shoulders sagged, realization slapping his face red, and suddenly he found that he could not help a small, caustic chuckle at this. " You really think you got me so pegged, Burn?"

" Not really. You're kind of proving me wrong with this whole Mavin deal."

This helped to brush away remaining irritation, and Danny was finally able to dive into his sandwich without his appetite being hindered by tension. As they ate, Danny got his revenge on Aiden by describing the horror scenes Mavin had talked of the other night. Beside slit throats and hangings, there had also been gutting such as the removal of a liver, spleen, kidney, lungs, and heart. Danny went into details about entrail bits left over in the tubs and buckets, which brought about a satisfying look of repulsion on Aiden's face.

" Messer, I'm trying to eat here. Can it already."

Danny snickered and finished off the rest of his sandwich just as his phone rang. He was still snickering some when he answered it.

" Messer."

" Something amusing you Messer?"

Danny tilted his head back and let out a sharp breath. " What do you want, Mavin?"

" I want you to sit tight so I can come pick you up. We're going to seek out an old buddy of mine."

Danny lifted his head. " Yeah? Who?"

" Jake."

CSINY

Stella was baffled, a state of mind she loathed. She couldn't help it, though. Spread before her on the lab counter were four sheets indicating the blood types of the samples that had been gathered. It had helped to put together a nice little puzzle, but it seemed she had an extra piece left over.

" Hey Mac, come and look at this," she said. Mac was at another table putting some piece of evidence into a bag and labeling it with a sharpie. He moved over to stand by Stella's shoulder and look the papers over.

" See anything strange?" she asked.

Mac placed his index and middle finger on the first two sheets. " These two are a match, but not these two."

" Exactly. The blood used for the snake at our crime scene is the same blood type as the victim's blood found at Danny and Aiden's scene. The blood for the snake at Danny and Aiden's scene does not match the blood of the vic at our scene." Stella turned to look up at Mac, alarm tightening her chest. " Do you think there's another body we haven't found yet?"

Mac was silent for a moment and his gaze distant with thought. " Maybe. I want to try something, though. It shouldn't take long." He picked up the paper with the blood type that had no match. " Let's compare this with the blood types of previous victims. The killer liked collecting blood as you recall. Perhaps he kept some of it over the years."

Stella nodded as her own mind began turning. " And if we have a match with anyone, DNA too to play it safe, then we'll know that this isn't a copy-cat killing. No one would just leave blood lying around for someone else to find and use."

" I'll get the file," Mac said. He left the lab, only to return a few minutes later with a manila folder in hand. He pulled out sheets one at a time and compared them, then set the ones aside that were the same blood type as that on the sheet. They ended up with three matches, with Mac still holding the third.

" My money's on this one." He handed the sheet to Stella. The name on the top was that of Detective Megan Myers.


	7. Lines

Note: To those who inquired about it, there will be a Danny and Aiden friendship thing going on eventually. Also, I apologize if certain swear words look misspelled. I'm not big on swearing, but it seems necessary for the story, so I try and sensor it so it's not too bad. If a swear-word looks misplaced or out of place, it's for a reason.

Ch. 6

Lines

It was an unnaturally silent ride for Danny as he and Mavin journeyed the maze of streets and traffic. The sky had reached the twilight hour, and half that sky was painted in red, pink, gold, and violet like a visual mantra to the sun's departure. Danny's gaze was fixed to these colors partially obscured by the silhouetted buildings flecked erratically in lighted windows. The quiet and the colors had him suddenly reminiscing to the time when he and his family had taken a trip out west, either to Arizona, New Mexico, or California; he couldn't quite recall. He'd been a small child then, and did not even remember the reason for the trip except that he didn't get much pleasure out of it. The only thing that had impressed upon him about that trip was the sunsets. The hotel or resort (whatever it had been) had been in a flat, open area, and the sunsets would make the sky blaze in brilliant, warm colors like spilled paint. It had awed Danny then, and still awed him today whenever he thought back on it.

The only setback was the discomfort he felt about all that open space. It had been endless, and child that he had been it had made him feel small and lost. He preferred being surrounded and being able to look up and see the sun reflected in thousands of windows. He always knew where he was in New York, while out in the open one could become easily misplaced, with too many directions to chose from and no idea of where to start.

Still, those had been awesome sunsets.

Thinking back helped to take Danny's mind off a different kind of discomfort; the kind created by awkward silences. Danny had been prepared for a tirade of information concerning Jake. Even now Danny was still startled, and wary, of Mavin's muteness. It made Danny tense with anticipation for something unpleasant. So rather than tempt fate and break the silence himself, Danny indulged in it and let his mind wander to ignore the fact that he was trapped in a car with someone he didn't much like.

It was taking them quite a bit of time to reach Jake's place, but it was the end of the workday after all so traffic was heavy. Even as they sat in that traffic the silence remained thick. Danny glanced at Mavin off and on by moving only his eyes. The older detective was obviously deep in thought by the way he stared straight ahead with a wrinkled brow. Yet the sight did little to relax Danny.

" We're almost there," Mavin said suddenly after making another turn. Mavin's voice, though level, smashed into Danny's thoughts and made him flinch in slight surprise.

" 'Bout time," Danny replied, shifting his position to hide his reaction.

Someone, though Danny did not remember who, had once commented that every nook and cranny of New York had a personality of its own. The comment had stayed with Danny, and everywhere he went he would occasionally muse as to what personality he had stepped into. In the case of where they were now, it was something secretive and favoring seclusion. The buildings around them were closer together and there looked to be no signs of life say for a few lighted windows and stores; very few.

Mavin pulled up in front of a red-bricked place with a vacant aura about it. The front entrance was barred by a rusty door barely hanging onto its hinges, and too many windows to count were broken and patched with either cardboard or duct tape.

Danny held back the urge to laugh. " Why am I not surprised," he mumbled to himself as he got out of the car. Though Danny tried not to give into stereotypes, he usually failed miserable, mostly because some stereotypes tended to be proven true. Jake had struck him at the first as the kind of guy who would live in the cheapest, most run-down dump he could find, and even to Danny who had seen all kinds of dumps, this was as run down as one could get.

Another sign of life carried to Danny on the quiet, cool, still air of dusk - the barking of a dog. Other than that, everything about the neighborhood felt abandoned. Such places always gave Danny the creeps, because it was here where someone always waited in hiding to jump out when the time was right and take off. Danny had once cracked a rib when the guy he had sought to question jumped out from behind a garbage bin and rammed him into a wall. Danny would have gladly shot the guy as he fled had Flack not tackled the dirtbag first.

So Danny let Mavin lead the way, seeing as how this was his arena.

" So, how we gonna play this?" Danny asked as they walked up the cracked steps to the door. " I mean this is your guy and you know him best."

Mavin flashed a smirk over his shoulder. " Glad to see you're catching on, Messer."

Danny clamped his jaw shut and glared. Glaring, however, had little effect on Mavin except to help him hold his smile a little longer. Danny's need to spit verbally back was tearing him up inside. But he held himself in check by promising to unleash all wrath the moment Mavin took it too far.

Mavin looked back and yanked on the rusting door so that it shrieked open like a tormented giant bat. " I'll ask the questions. That's how we'll play it. You listen and take notes."

Danny rolled his eyes. " Cool with me."

" Yeah," Mavin snorted. " Sure it is."

They entered into the narrow corridor that smelled of cat pee and looked as though a small hurricane had blown through a while back. The tile floor was so faded, cracked, chipped, and stained that its original color was forever lost. The covering to the fluorescent lights was nearly non-existent, and darkened water stains mottled the ceiling (if it had been water that had caused the stains to begin with.)

They took the staircase that wound about the perimeter of the building up to the fourth landing.

" According to his parole officer," Mavin said as they climbed, his breath wheezing and heavy, " Jake never moved."

Danny, being younger and with far cleaner lungs, handled the stairs like they were only a single flight and not many. " So just what was it Jake got busted for besides being an accessory?"

Mavin coughed out a laugh. Somewhere in the building, a couple was having a shouting match. " He was never convicted for the letters. He was just the delivery boy. And he was cooperating when he fingered Lynals. We didn't have squat to hold him on. But before his new hobby of aiding sickos, he was charged with stalking, harassment, theft, breaking and entering, and resisting arrest all in the same week. He'd been a teenager then. _Since_ then he's pretty much kept his nose clean. Then the Hangman came along and little Jakey found a new lease on being a creep."

Mavin stopped five rooms down and pounded on the cracked, wooden door. He then fell silent and waited.

Danny looked at him inquisitively. " No 'hey Jake, this is the police, open up'?"

Mavin pursed his lips and shrugged. " Naw." He grinned at Danny. " I like surprises. Don't you?"

Danny frowned and jerked his head at the door. " Not if it means they run."

Mavin pounded on the door again. Inside, unnoticed before, a murmuring, continuous din suddenly ceased.

" I'm coming!" A low but hoarse voice practically snarled. Chains rattled and locks clicked, then the door was thrown open revealing a man about Danny's height with receding hair and a five o'clock shadow verging on white. Jake, his face even more lined than in the picture, was looking much older than he actually was. He was wearing a heavy black coat over a sleeveless under shirt, along with a pair of baggy jeans held loosely in place by a black, studded belt. All that was missing was a bandanna or a baseball cap, and the gangster ensemble would have been complete.

Jake's gray-blue eyes became fixed on Mavin, narrowing in cold dissatisfaction.

" Whadda you want?" he growled. The man might have been gangster in appearance, but he had yet to play the part of another white guy trying to pass as black.

Mavin held out his arms as though about to hug Jake. " Jake, my man! What the hll kind of greeting is that for an old buddy?"

Jake shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized coat and squinted incredulously. " Buddy?"

Mavin gave Jake a little shove back into the apartment. " Yeah, Buddy." Mavin went in after, and Danny followed. Jake's place was small, about as small as Mavin's place. The kitchen was on the left, and everything else was living room with two doors on the right open to reveal the bathroom and the bedroom. But what struck Danny a mental blow was the fact that the entire place was clean. Had it not been for the water stains on the wall and ceiling, especially in the bathroom, the frayed condition of the green couch, the old TV with bent rabbit ears, and the crates and plywood for a coffee table, it might have seemed a decent place. Jake might have gone for the cheap but he obviously still had his pride. Or perhaps he was just one of those obsessive-compulsive cleaners.

Jake went to the couch and dropped himself into it. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his coat, stuck one in his mouth, and lit it with a plastic lighter.

" I'd offer you one," he said, the cigarette dangling precariously from his thin lips, " but I hate your guts. Who's the kid? New partner? How many would that be now, five, ten?"

Mavin tilted his head in Danny's direction. " He's with the crime lab. He's here to observe, take some samples, you know the drill."

Jake took a deep drag from the cigarette as though taking a deep, cleansing breath. He let the smoke spill out from his mouth slowly and watched it as it swirled and rose to fade away into stench.

Danny kept his own breathing careful and shallow. His nerves buzzed with burning irritation and his muscles twitched to take the cigarette from Jake's mouth and crush it out. He was getting sick of this crap.

" So which is gonna be first then? Questions or evidence?"

Mavin moved around to stand in front of Jake on the other side of the makeshift coffee table. " Questions. That's always the more painful part, right? Besides, we already have what we need from you."

Jake smiled caustically and tapped ash into a dish. " Personally, I always had fun with the questions. You were so easy back then. I'm betting you still are. Right kid?"

He looked at Danny. Danny made no reply, though he wanted to. Instead he stared coolly back with the look he usually gave those he was interrogating himself - dark and annoyed.

Jake chuckled. " Ouch, if looks could kill."

Mavin leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of Jake's face. " Hey, Jakey-boy, over here. Do any mail-man impressions lately?" Mavin pulled a plastic bag containing a blank sheet of paper from his pocket. " 'Cause I just got a special delivery."

Jake was the picture of calm as he took another inhalation of smoke, then smiled. His eyes sparked with what Danny could have sworn was displeasure.

" Not my doin'."

Jake sounded unhappy, even bitter. He flicked the end of his cigarette with agitated force, nearly causing the ash to fly into highly flammable places.

Mavin simpered. " Aw, is Jake not the favorite anymore? The Hangman get tired of the service or somethin'? Or is this part of some startin' over process? You out of the running Jake?"

Jake shrugged. " It ain't always me doin' the drop-offs. You know that. I only took in the good stuff, and I know it was the good stuff by the way you guys would always take off like spooked pigeons." Jake let out a breathy laugh. " Good times, man, good times."

Mavin shoved the paper back into his pocket. " Bet they were, Jakey. I'm pretty sure you've heard about new bodies found?"

Jake nodded, taking a drag. " Only someone both blind and deaf wouldn't know. It's all over the news."

" You know what it means then."

Jake gave another breathless laugh. " You're gonna be on my A like stink on a dog. I know. Watching, waiting. Despite the fact that it didn't work out too good the last time. You must've spent, like, hours sittin' out in your car, freezing your butt off, watching my place like you had nothing better to do. Oh, wait, you didn't have anything better to do. You really need to get a life, Mavin. Am I right, kid?"

Once again, Jake turned his attention to Danny, and once again Danny went for the silent treatment. Jake appeared amused by this.

" You a mute or something?" he looked back at Mavin. " What's his problem?"

Mavin just chuckled, about to respond, but Danny beat him to it, tired of remaining lost in the background.

" No. I just got better things to do than talk to you."

Jake arched an eyebrow in slight surprise. " Yeah? Like what? Standing there and breathing?"

" Watching you."

Jake blew smoke out through his nose. " Am I pretty or something? Or do you think I might try something?"

Danny shook his head. " Naw. But you can tell a lot about a guy just by watching him. For example, right now you don't look too happy about someone else delivering the letter."

Jake's smile diminished but did not vanish. " You can tell that just by looking at me." He shook his head. " You both need to get a life."

" Okay, Jake, let's just cut to it then," Mavin jumped in. His tone was different, less pleasant, as though he had suffered a sudden mood change. " Yes, we're gonna be on you're A. You so much as wipe your nose in a way we don't like and we're hauling you in. I'm tempted to haul you in right now, 'cause right now you're our number one suspect."

Jake beamed. " Aw, gee, thanks Mavin, that means a lot. Too bad I'm not the guy you want, but I doubt you'll ever know for sure. But hey, listen, the moment I start deliveries I'll be sure to make them to you personally."

Mavin tilted his head back to release a frustrated breath. " Jake, you know this can't last forever." He looked back down at Jake. " You're expendable, Jake. Disposable. You're not the favorite; you're just convenient. So you know stuff not even the cops know, and find it fun to rub it in our faces. But think about it, Jake. The moment you become useless is the moment you also become the next victim. The Hangman ain't gonna let you live with all the crap you know. It's too risky. Hll, I'm surprised you're even still alive."

Danny was still watching Jake intently, especially his eyes. The eyes were the windows to the soul, or so the saying went. Personally, Danny saw them more as the betrayer of the souls, the two-way mirror into what was going on behind all the façade. What Danny witnessed in Jake's eyes was a flicker of fear, subtle and quick, but not quick enough for Danny to miss. Mavin's words had struck a nerve, which meant that Jake believed them though he did not want to.

Jake smashed his cigarette into the ashtray, grinding it to his fingertips without burning himself, or acknowledging that he had burned himself.

" Whatever, Mavin. The fact that I'm still alive should say a lot." He took another cigarette from the pack, then spread his arms out wide. " I'm the prophet in this, Mavin. I'm the messenger. You can't hang the messenger. Speaking of which, get anyone to replace Myers yet?"

Danny looked at Mavin, wondering how he would respond. Mavin just smiled, but it was a tight, nasty smile that put Danny on alert.

Jake continued. " I mean, you talk about me being expendable. You guys get replaced in, like, a heartbeat the very second one of you kicks it."

Mavin still retained his tight smile, and then he sighed. " Jake, you talk, and all I hear is static. Give me something to listen to and then maybe I'll respond by not throwing your sorry butt in jail the next time a letter comes."

Mavin then turned as though about to go, and Danny began to follow. Except Mavin didn't head toward the door. He moved slowly around the table to tower over the still sitting Jake. Jake, his cigarette now lit, looked up at Mavin. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and carefully laid it down in the tray.

As soon as he did, Mavin balled his fist and slammed it into Jake's jaw, causing the man's head to snap to the side and his body to slam into the couch. But Mavin did not stop there. He picked up Jake by the collar of his coat and threw him to the floor.

" Hey!" Danny gasped. It all happened so fast that Danny hardly had time to register it. Danny's heart slammed in alarm and he rushed around the table to grab Mavin just as he was crouching and lifting Jake back up. He pulled Mavin back, and Mavin dropped Jake back onto the couch.

Jake, however, was laughing as he wiped the blood from his nose. He twitched his head and let out a sharp breath as though he had just gone on a wild ride.

" Dang, Mavin, you always could deal a good blow."

Mavin jerked his arm free of Danny's grasp and smiled. " I don't let myself get rusty."

Blood kept dripping from Jake's nose, and he kept wiping. " I don't know why you even try. Didn't work then, won't work now."

Mavin dropped his grin. " Just playin' along, Jake. Just playin' along. You know I gotta at least try."

Jake nodded. Mavin then pushed past Danny to head out the door. Danny followed, his mind reeling at the exchange he had just witnessed. He felt sick with shock, and was unable to hold his tongue any longer. As soon as they were outside Jake's place, shutting the door, Danny unchecked himself.

" What the hll was that, Mavin! Huh? Why'd you hit him? What the hll were you thinking..."

They were heading back down the hall when Mavin suddenly turned on Danny with eyes blazing in anger. He stuck his finger into Danny's chest as though it were the barrel of a gun.

" Don't ever," he said in a quiet, cold, venomous voice, " interfere like that again."

" You were gonna pound him flat…"

" Not that!" Mavin hissed between gritted teeth. " When I say to let me handle the questions, you keep your mouth shut. Got it? You almost ruined it."

Danny knocked Mavin's hand away. " Ruined what, Mavin? Your little word game? You know, if I didn't know any better I could have sworn all you two were doin' was catching up on old times." Danny jabbed his finger back toward Jake's place. " We didn't learn a freakin' thing in there. In fact, if anything, we probably just got our butts hauled off this case."

Mavin laughed scornfully. " Why? Because of the beating I gave Jake? That ain't the first incident, Messer. He's not gonna report us, he loves it. He's a freak. He thinks it's a joke, and frankly I enjoy it. Helps me to vent. It's not like I was gonna beat him to death. Just a few hits, like a message of our own."

Danny could not believe he was hearing this. Mavin's tone, his attitude, conveyed the absolute sincerity of his words to Danny. Mavin did enjoy this, not just the beating but all of it. It was a joke to him as well.

" This isn't a freakin' game, Mavin!" Danny practically yelled. " You keep callin' it that but it's not so stop treating it _like_ _it_ _is_!"

Mavin, for a moment, did not move except to slowly narrow his eyes in scrutiny.

" You think I'm playin' a game?"

Danny, his heart thrashing like a maddened animal against his ribcage, nodded sharply. " Yeah, that's exactly what I think. Because that's exactly what you keep calling it."

Mavin seemed to be searching Danny's face, either for truth or for what Danny was really thinking. Then he laughed a hard, cold laugh, shaking his head.

" You have no idea…" he began, then let out a breath smelling of nicotine and mint. " You're clueless, you know that kid? Totally… Freakin'… clueless. So let me fill you in on a little something you don't seem to realize. Come on."

He tried to place his hand on Danny's shoulder, but Danny jerked away from him.

Mavin glared at Danny. " You need to relax Messer." It was more like a command than a suggestion. He headed down the hall, and Danny had no choice but to follow, his blood pounding in his ears to the rhythm of his pulsing heart.

CSY NY

When they went back outside, the sky was dark, and any remaining light was hidden behind the wall of buildings. Mavin and Danny entered the car in terse silence, Danny watching Mavin for another shift in attitude but the man's darkened expression still lingered.

Mavin pulled away from the building and up the street. He took streets that were not taking them back the way they had come, and Danny tensed.

" Where're we going now?" he asked, looking around to hide the discomfort welling inside him. At that moment, he would have taken a shot to the knee rather than let Mavin know he had rattled him.

" You'll know when we get there," Mavin replied. They took several turns until they came to a block lined by stores. Mavin slowed the car to a crawl, and pointed toward a liquor store where a group of guys in heavy coats and wearing blue bandannas stepped out.

" Perfect timing. You know who those boys are?"

Danny couldn't see their faces as the glaring lights of the store silhouetted them.

" Enlighten me."

" Nobody's, all of 'em. The problem is, they don't think their nobody's, and the public doesn't either. They're a gang just like any other gang - full of it. Don't get me wrong, they're not anyone you wanna mess with. But any idiot becomes a danger when they get hold of a gun. The thing is, these guys here, the ones standing there, deciding on where they should go to get drunk and high - They're not big shots, not like, say - oh, I don't know - Tanglewood…"

At this, Danny snapped his head around to look at Mavin. The smirk had returned, and it brought about a full on memory of the day Danny had met Mavin. He had expected something like this to happen, but sooner, not later.

" And they know it," Mavin continued. " So they do what they can, hoping against hope that they might be recognized for more than just a bunch of brain-dead junkies. Do you know how a gang becomes more than bunch of brain-dead junkies, Messer?"

Danny clenched his jaw shut so tight that his teeth began to hurt, but now was not the time to be speaking, not to Mavin.

" I'll just assume you do. I like to get to know people, Messer, on a deeper level. But people…" he shrugged. " They don't like me getting to know them. I've asked around where I could, and let me tell you, I've heard some interesting things about you. Don't know if any of it's true, though, and I can safely bet you're not the one to ask. But you know about people," he pointed toward the gang now wandering off down the sidewalk, " like them. You know about that world, don't you Messer?"

Danny, with an effort that actually hurt inside, turned away to direct his hateful gaze out the window so that Mavin couldn't see and relish it. He forced the mist of fury from his brain, pushing aside angry retorts for something that would prove more effective.

" So?" was his response. Sometimes the most basic, simple words could hold the greatest meanings if said right. And it was true, so what if he knew things about that world. He had always seen such knowing as an advantage to his job, and so used it that way.

Mavin was silent for a moment. His curiosity getting the better of him, Danny forced himself to look back.

Mavin, for his part, appeared genuinely impressed.

" Well, then, you know how some of them can be," Mavin continued. " These guys wanna make a name for themselves, they do what they can, and say screw to all the limits. Those boys walking away right now include some of the ones used by the Hangman to deliver his letters. Now, some of them may have done it out of fear, but after talkin' with them all for a while we discovered that all of them, even the scared ones, had started doing it because they thought it was cool. They thought they were taking part in something big, and that they would have something they could brag about to others. Now, this may sound messed up, but think about it. Association is the key. To say you're affiliated with a serial killer…." Mavin shook his head in disbelief, " man, that otta get you respect right off the back. Of course you'd have to embellish it a tad. You know, say you're tight with the killer and all? Do enough research and you can even claim that you helped in the killings. You see Messer, what it all comes down to is getting a name, making yourself known... no matter what."

Mavin pulled away from the curb and continued on up the street. " They think it's a game, Messer. They think it's a way to get ahead. They don't see what we see. They don't see the hanging bodies and the blood. They just see a name that'll go down in history, and they want a piece of it. If you ask me, I think they're sicker than our killer. They're rising up in life on a stack of dead bodies, bodies of people they didn't even know. You accuse me of treating this like a game? Well, guess what Messer, it is a game. To the killer and these lackeys it is. And like any game you have to play. Part of that game is trying to fix the mistakes of the past, and to do that you have to repeat the past say for where it went wrong. Me hitting Jake - that was the routine then, so it's the routine now. And you never know when it might finally work."

They were finally turning onto streets Danny knew would take them back to the crime lab, and relief flooded him. It was an uncomfortable notion to admit even to himself, but Danny found himself needing desperately to get away from Mavin. All of Mavin's talk of games and playing along struck Danny as sounding faulty, while at the same time plausible. Murderers who killed simply for the sake of killing tended toward making it all a game to add some extra spice to the act. The killer's part was to establish the rules, and the police to discover those rules. Then it all came down to the simple matter of winning or losing, whether the cops found the killer or the killer stopped on his own accord.

That was where the flaw lay. The game was the killer's to begin with, so his to manipulate. Manipulation was where the real fun lay. So to play the way the killer wanted was to give the killer what he wanted. He would always remain ten steps ahead, and the authorities ten steps behind. That is, unless, someone finally crossed those lines the killer set thinking that they would never be crossed. In other words - going too far.

And that was what made Danny sick, what made him want to get away from Mavin. Mavin would be that someone; there was no doubt about it in Danny's mind now.


	8. Games

I love reviews! I love my readers! There's just so much love! Thank you all for the lovely comments. You're all spiffy! Enjoy this chapter.

Ch. 7

Games

Sleep had finally handed over its merits, and Danny felt rested enough to pull an all-nighter if it ever came down to it. He was not, however, in a sunny state of mind as he left the locker room with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders sagging. The events of last night kept coming back to him, and he reluctantly pondered them with mild trepidation. After Mavin's soapbox tirade concerning gangs associating themselves with murderers, he had dropped Danny off at the crime lab without another exchange of words. After that, Danny had clocked out and gone straight home with Mavin's words buzzing incessantly in his brain.

The Hangman had allies. It was like a Charles Manson deal but without the whole brainwashing scenario. If anything, the Hangman had it easier since he didn't need to start some mind-altering cult to get people on his side. He was proficient to an unnatural, sickening degree.

What bothered Danny more, however, was Mavin. Only two deaths in and the detective was already getting weirder by the second. Danny had never felt so relieved as he had on waking up to the sound of his alarm rather than his phone, and he silently pleaded that Mavin would decide on making himself scarce today. Danny needed a break from the man, plain and simple.

Danny was heading toward the lab when he came across Mac walking briskly in the other direction.

" Just the man I wanted to see," Mac said by way of a greeting. " I'm going to the morgue. Care to join me?"

Danny was all ready to ask why when he recalled that he had yet to learn of anything Dr. Hawkes had to say about the bodies. He'd been too busy dealing with Mavin and his mind games.

Danny shrugged. " Sure." He turned and fell into step beside Mac.

" So," Mac began, " how'd the interview with Jake go?"

Danny grimaced. " Depends. How much did you hear about it?"

Mac smiled a knowing smile. " Only that you and Mavin went to question him."

Danny shook his head in dislike. " Mavin's a whack-job. We didn't learn a freakin' thing. Well, not right out. Jake wasn't the one who delivered the blank letter, and I was given the feeling that he wasn't too keen on that."

" Why do you say that?"

" He didn't look too happy when we asked him about it."

Mac nodded. " Probably not. How did Mavin react?"

Danny's insides seem to shrivel. He had not wanted to touch on this area since he was still debating on whether or not he should have reported Mavin. But Danny was not about to keep anything from Mac, not now. This wasn't some petty misdemeanor case.

" He… um… kind of… slugged the guy a hard right."

To Danny's alarm, Mac laughed.

" That isn't funny Mac," Danny admonished in wide-eyed disbelief. " We're gonna get our butts thrown off for this. I didn't even report him."

" No point to," Mac replied, still grinning. " If Jake had a problem with it, he would have reported it. Mavin and Jake…"

Danny released a sharp, irritated breath. It seemed everyone around him had suddenly lost the will to take anything seriously, and it was making him physically ill. " I know, it's their _thing_. Jake holds back info and Mavin uses him as a punching bag. All part of the freakin' game, right? Jake likes it; Mavin likes it, so it's all good. Let the masochists have their fun, we don't mind. It's just a game. No harm in having a little fun while we track down a man who likes to butcher people - why? - Because he thinks it's fun. Everything's in the name of good times. Well you know what? I don't like it. It's not a game Mac, it's perverted. You know what? I should go report Mavin. I mean where does he get off thinking he can go around hitting who ever he wants - suspects especially! The guy's a freakin' loon, you know that? I swear he's enjoying all this…"

Danny barely noticed the hand on his shoulder until the pressure increased and he was forced to stop. He snapped his head around, startled, to look at Mac. Mac appeared troubled.

" Danny, relax. No one said this was a game."

Danny bristled, his blood boiling. " Mavin begs to differ. Just ask him so you can get an earful about how this is all something we need to play along with - like a _game_. He'll set you straight. He likes setting people straight."

Mac said nothing as he studied Danny's face for a moment. " Do you need to be reassigned?"

Oh, Mavin would just love that. Poor Messer can't handle the facts so slinks off to work in the background. Danny shook his head vehemently.

" No."

Mac studied him for a second longer, then sighed. " All right. But the offer still stands, don't forget it."

CSINY

Sterility and steel, permeated by the pungent scent of formaldehyde and other chemicals, cold and seemingly uncaring, the morgue could be a nauseating place at times. It sometimes reminded Mac, twisted though it was, of a massive kitchen minus the stove - with all its tables, various knives, refrigeration system, and sinks. He felt a profound sense of pity for those forced to come here and identify bodies. Normally a viewing room was utilized where a person could see the deceased through a window from a small, comfortable room. But not all the time, and then people would be forced to enter a place to not only see death but taste it and smell it as well. At least at a cemetery there was a hint of something nicer in the surrounding trees, singing birds, and sunshine should the visitation be in the day. The morgue was far more morbid than a cemetery could ever be, even at night.

Over the years, Mac had built up a tolerance for the morgue's reputation, and soon it became just another place to him. Still, at times, thanks especially to the smells, he could not help feeling slightly repulsed by it. It was a fleeting feeling, though, since his mind was always on other matters.

Mac made a quick glance at Danny in passing observation. The day Mac had met Messer; his immediate impression of the young man was that he was tense. Mac had chalked it up to nervousness over whether he would be picked for the team or not. Mac had already selected Danny without having even seen him, yet even after Danny was integrated into the team he still maintained an aura of constant intensity. Laid back he was not, and at times it was difficult to tell if he was ever relaxed at all.

But Mac had come to realize what an agitated Danny actually looked like, and he was seeing it now. His gait was stiffer, his expression dark with a perpetual frown, and his back slightly bowed like a bristling wolf about to pounce or a snake about to strike. Topping it all off was a cold, penetrating gaze that Mac had personally seen cow suspects twice Danny's size. If only it could cow Mavin. Mac thought of things to distract Danny with as they maneuvered through the tables to where Dr. Hawkes was working.

" I ran the blood samples through DNA," Mac said. " The blood used for the snake at your scene belonged to Detective Megan Myers."

The change was uncanny. Danny's tension seemed to lift from him like an invisible shroud in a gust of strong wind.

" He saved her blood?"

" Yep. Which means our killer is no copy-cat."

" Somehow that thrills me even less. Weren't we supposed to be getting a profiler?"

Mac lifted his hand and pointed to the table where Dr. Hawkes stood. A female figure was standing on the other side of that table with her back to Mac and Danny. When Dr. Hawkes lifted his head to greet the two forensics with a nod, the woman turned and smiled at them.

She was a little older than Danny, but far younger than Mac by the look of her. Her straight, black hair that came down to the middle of her back was pulled back in a tail. She had a long, oval face and bright green eyes both friendly and intelligent. She was wearing a smart looking gray suit with the skirt being knee-length and her heels black like her hair.

She held out her well-manicured hand for Mac to take. He did, and he found her grip to be strong but not uncomfortably tight.

" Anita Farrone," she said. " You must be detective Mac Taylor."

Mac jerked his head in a nod. " I am. And this is Danny Messer."

She turned to Danny and the two shook hands as well. " I was just talking with Dr. Hawkes about your latest find."

Mac looked at the gray-skinned body with the chest marred by stitching marking where Hawkes had done his carving. He then looked at Hawkes.

" Anything to mention I don't already know?" Mac asked.

" Probably not," Hawkes said in his quiet way. At times Sheldon Hawkes seemed very out of place at the morgue. He had a gentle-natured, soft-spoken way about him that would have made him an excellent doctor with the ultimate bedside manner. But the young mortician had a dark streak to him manifested in his fascination on how, exactly, the body he was working on died.

Hawkes pointed to the stitched-closed slit on the neck. " There's bruising, indicating she was hung first, then her throat was slit. Same with your last vic." He pulled the dead woman's head to the side and pointed at a clod of mashed hair stained by dried blood.

" She was knocked out first." He gently moved the head back. " As for how the blood was removed, I can't quite confirm it, I can only offer an educated guess. Your killer probably used a siphon, a piece of hose jammed into the jugular perhaps. He might have even used the tail of the noose to allow the blood to drip into a container. But, as I said, it's all educated guessing." He lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile. " Don't quote me on it. There are a number of different ways he could have collected the blood. He could've let it just… run down the body to drip from the feet."

" Lovely," Danny murmured with a frown of disgust. " Wouldn't that take a long time?"

" The Hangman made certain he had time," Anita said. " Your latest find was down in that basement for a while. The killer was obviously aware that the landlord wouldn't go down there until the tenants did enough complaining. I believe it was a similar scenario with the first body you came across. Actually, all the bodies ever found. He chooses the site of his killings by how much time they give him to gather the blood."

" That wasn't in the profile," Danny stated, seemingly amused.

Anita folded her arms. " I don't normally like to speak ill of colleagues, let alone mentors, but Dr. Castle's assumptions about the killer were not… thorough. Nothing against the man. He was good. But - and this is just my assumption - I think he was being pushed for results, so he slapped together what he could just to give the police something. No offense," she added to Mac.

Mac smiled. " I understand." All to well. His thoughts went immediately to Mavin and those times when he had hovered like a panther in the shadows as Castle reported his theories.

" I took the time before coming here to try and put together a better composite," Anita went on. " It seems that this guy likes to play games."

Mac flicked his gaze over to Danny. Danny made no reaction except to shift his weight to the other foot.

Anita sighed thoughtfully. " I'm sticking with the theory of multi-personality. It's the only reason I can see for the snake. This may sound odd, but I believe that two of the personalities are in charge of the killings. We have two deaths in the same week, similar yet different. I wouldn't be surprised if the personalities are at odds with eachother, though I've yet to determine how exactly. There seems to be no competition, just collaboration. If anything the killer's more in competition with us. The predatory nature, I agree with. This guy's a hunter, maybe even actually hunted animals at one time. Personality-wise he likes to be in charge, he likes structure and rules. Things will go his way or not at all. Should anything be altered - say a body found sooner than expected or a victim found alive - well, I can't say for certain what he would do. You'd think he couldn't do worse than what he's already doing," she shrugged " but people, in general, are always full of surprises."

" Everything else is same old, same old. He's got a superiority complex; he's trying to prove himself better than us, so on and so on. He is working differently now, though. He used to drug his victims, now, apparently, he just knocks them out. You might say he's raising the stakes. Drugging them was safer. There was no chance for the victim to wake up at the wrong time or to realize what was going on and run off. I think he proved something with the first string of deaths, now he's taking it further. I hate to see what he has in store for traps."

" What about the letters?" Danny asked.

" All part of the game," Anita said. Danny did react to this with a quick dart of his eyes from wall to floor in an attempt at hiding his irritation.

Anita appeared not to have noticed. " It's how he controls us. The man knows how to use people. He knows what to look for in a messenger and how to get them to do as he says. He knows who would be more likely to follow him and who wouldn't. The Hangman does his homework."

" Anything different we should do then?" Mac asked. Anita bit her lip, shook her head, and lifted one shoulder.

" Sorry, not that I know of. Just… take it slow, I guess. This is just my opinion, but while helping Dr. Castle I always had this feeling that we were moving too fast, being pushed too hard. I know people are being killed, but keeping a fast pace didn't help matters much back then."

Again, Mac's thoughts fell to Mavin. He and Myers had always been the driving force, always rushing everything as though to compensate for always being too far behind. The one in charge of the case now, Detective Atkinson, was a levelheaded man in Mac's opinion. He was more into logic and facts than immediate results. Aiding him were two Federal Agents that Mac knew nothing about, but thus far had let New York police handle most of everything.

" I don't think that'll be a problem," Mac said.

" I think the real question is, will it make a difference?" Anita said. " But I've always seen myself as an optimist. Things might turn out different this time."

CSINY

Danny found the monotony of picking apart a bloody sheet a pleasant respite from driving around and going to scenes. The lab was quiet say for the hum of machines at work and the distant, low murmur of voices in the background. It may have been a pointless endeavor to search out hairs on the sheets not belonging to the vic, but they still had to try. Nothing was to change, Mac had said. The killer may be good, but he wasn't perfect. Something had to give eventually.

It sounded like weak hope to Danny, but he agreed with it all the same. Everyone slipped at some point. Everyone had a fault, a weakness, a careless side.

Danny's study of the sheet was absorbing. He pulled several hairs from the sheet, all the vic's by the length of them. Suddenly his phone chirped, startling him so that his head snapped up and his heart leaped into his throat. He pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped it open.

" Messer," he said, lifting up the end of the sheet toward his eyes.

" Messer, my man, guess what?"

Danny dropped his hand holding the sheet with a loud thunk, his blood already starting to roar through his ears. " What, Mavin?" he asked flatly.

" Just got an important message from a mutual acquaintance of ours. I'm coming to get you, Messer, so stay put."

Bite me, Mavin, Danny wanted desperately to spat, but Mavin had hung up. Danny's muscles began to knot, so he straightened to arch his spine until the individual vertebrae sang to him in the tune of cracks and pops. Then he shuddered, and gripped the sheet until his hand hurt. The thought of another little field trip with Mavin made his stomach turn. But Danny wasn't about to back down now, or ever for that matter.

NOTE

TBC, but I would think that was obvious. If you are wondering when something interesting is going to happen, you'd be asking at the right time. Here is a little sneak preview for next chapter - ahem - something interesting is going to happen. That is all I will say. I have to take it slow since I keep forgetting what I did in the last chapter and have to remember what needs to be mentioned in the next chapter. If I seem to be repeating myself on a lot of things, I apologize.


	9. Gotcha

If youdisliked Mavin before...

Ch. 8

Gotcha

Why does the freaky stuff always happen at night? Danny thought with growing agitation. He was, once again, trapped in a car with Mavin, who was negotiating another series of streets leading to secluded places where not even rats seemed to exist. It was already dark, past the hour that Danny should have gotten off work, and the department did not look very kindly on overtime.

Mavin's new letter, safely tucked away in a plastic back and already scrutinized for prints, had been typed. All that was on it was directions, and was signed 'cordially, yours truly.' Danny was curious as to what Farrone would make of it once she saw it. He liked her assessment of the killer. It was far more poignant than the cliché Castle had coughed up.

Mavin was quiet as they drove, but his mouth was turned up in a partial grin that had the affect of being like an insect trying to burrow into Danny's flesh. Danny shifted and arched his back for another pop of his vertebrae, the fourth time since Mavin had picked him up. Danny's muscles were not only refusing to unknot but seemed to actually be tightening. He tried to ignore Mavin's smirk but it hovered like a gnat out of the corner of his eye.

" Something amusing you Mavin?" Danny finally asked. It was getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut.

" Depends," Mavin replied.

" On what?"

" On what we find?" He looked at Danny. " Too early for another body."

Danny narrowed his eyes at Mavin. " So, what, it's a trap? We're going into a trap?"

" Maybe, maybe not. Even traps have a purpose besides making us miserable. Sometimes they're keys."

" Keys to what?"

" Finding the next body."

Danny thought back to Farrone talking about the killer seeking out sites in advance.

" But," Mavin went on; " sometimes it's just a message, a tease, something to rub in our faces."

Danny tilted his head back in frustration and passed both hands over his face. " What the hll are you talking about, Mavin?"

" Just wait until we get there," Mavin said, then fell silent.

They arrived to the address five minutes later. By the size of the building and the tall chain-link fence surrounding it, the place must have been some sort of warehouse. They pulled up in front of it and Mavin hopped out without even closing the door. He went to the entrance, pulled at the chained gate, then began moving around it into an alley on the right.

" Keep your eyes sharp, Messer," Mavin called back.

Since Danny had yet to share Mavin's enthusiasm, he moved slower. Grabbing his kit and taking out his flashlight, he followed after Mavin, shining the light in all directions. The darkness of the night was thick, broken here and there by the security lights protruding from the wall of the warehouse.

Mavin stayed ahead of Danny, a misty form partially swallowed by the darkness, distinguishable only by the piercing beam of his light as it darted madly about. Danny had no idea how Mavin expected to find anything, or even what it was they were supposed to be looking for.

Danny sighed and decreased his steps even more. He kept his light toward the building. Was this the next sight for the killing? Or did the killer have bouts of randomness just to keep things interesting? He came to what looked like a pile of junk, but closer inspection revealed the clutter of renovation equipment and then some. The Hangman seemed to prefer fix-me ups.

The renovations, however, must have been for the building next door, since there was clutter piled along the side of the neighboring building as well. The junk by the fence included two levels of scaffolding not quite tall enough to reach past the fence, plus a few empty paint cans.

Danny moved closer to the junk by the fence, shining his light into the deeper shadows beneath the scaffolding. Nothing. He then climbed onto the creaking structure to the first level, searching it over for scribbles in blood or some note. His light passed over the wall of the fenced building, and Danny caught something swaying slightly from one of the lights. Danny brought the light back, squinting at the small, misshapen object. He stepped onto the next level, leaning forward with one hand clutching the chain-link.

The object began to take familiar shape in Danny's mind, and his stomach flipped in alarm.

" What the hll?" he whispered, widening his eyes. " Hey Mavin! Maybe you should get back here!"

Running footfalls echoed sharply off the walls, coming closer fast. Mavin soon appeared out of the gloom, panting heavily.

" What, what? What'd you find?"

" Looks like a severed hand from where I'm standing."

Mavin moved around the scaffolding to shine his light upward. " Think you can reach it?"

The hand was swinging in front of Danny. The space between the fence and the building wasn't that great, only a few feet. But the hand was a little higher than the fence, and the scaffold wasn't that tall.

" Come on, Messer. It's an easy reach. Just step up on the railing and lean forward."

Danny looked down at Mavin in disbelief. " Why don't you. You're taller."

Mavin grinned. " Yeah? Well you're lighter. It'd handle your weight better than mine. Besides, you're the forensic. You're supposed to be handling this kind of thing."

Danny knew he wasn't going to win this argument. He set his kit and light down then pulled out a latex glove, yanking it onto his hand with unconfined animosity. He wanted to argue that they probably should wait until morning when the place opened, but by then the evidence could become contaminated and useless. Beside that, Mavin would only respond with some smart A-- remark.

Placing his ungloved hand on the chain-link, he stepped onto the first railing where the top of the fence was now below chest level. It moaned in protest, shuddering slightly. Looking down, Danny was surprised to see three feet of space between the fence and the scaffold, easily hidden by the lack of proper light. He leaned forward despite his unease and stretched as far as his arm would allow, with a hand-span between him and the severed body part.

" Come on Messer, reach," Mavin urged like some deranged coach pushing him to do the impossible.

" I can't, Mavin," Danny growled. " It's too far. We need to get into the place."

Mavin shifted and sighed with frustration. " Messer, I don't care if you have to pop you arm out of the socket, you need to get that hand. If you don't some punk is going to see it, think it's cool, and take it home. So stop whining and step on that second rung."

Fury welling up in Danny's chest, he reluctantly did as Mavin suggested. He stepped onto the second railing, moving him a little higher above the fence. He leaned on the top of the fence and reached out, reaching forward precariously. His fingers grazed the hand, but it kept bouncing off the tips away from his grasp.

Then he shifted, just slightly, and his feet slipped clean away from the rail. He fell chest first onto the fence, then lost his grip and fell between the scaffold and fence, landing on his outstretched left hand. Pain tore up his arm, joining with the pain radiating from his chest. Danny sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, rolling onto his side and hugging his agonizing wrist to his agonizing chest.

" Ah crap!" he hissed. " Crap, crap, crap!"

" Hey Messer, you okay? Messer?"

Danny waited until the pain subsided before he replied, but was never given the chance when a hand gripped him by the shoulder of his jacket and began hauling him out in successive jerks, aggravating the pain. Danny scrambled forward just to make it stop, then rolled onto his back once he was out from under the scaffold.

" Ah man that freakin' hurt," Danny moaned, swallowing hard. Then, to his great annoyance, he felt Mavin's shoe digging into his ribs.

" Come on, Messer, get up. I don't have all night."

Danny knew he should have been shocked by Mavin's insincerity, but he wasn't. Neither did he listen to Mavin. He stayed where he was, still waiting for the pain to ease just so he could breathe easier.

" There is no getting that stupid hand, Mavin," Danny said coldly. He turned his head to see Mavin move over to the front of the scaffold and study it over.

" Now don't be getting all pessimistic on me, Messer. There's always a way. You just weren't using your head." Mavin then began poking around the clutter about the fence and the neighboring wall. Danny rolled onto his other side and carefully pushed himself up with his good hand. Then, clinging to the fence, he pulled himself onto his feet, wincing from another rush of pain.

" Mavin," he said, his teeth gritted once more. " What're you doing?"

" Innovating."

Danny turned to glare questioningly at Mavin. Mavin paid no attention as he was climbing the scaffold with a stick in one hand and a scrap of wire in the other. Danny looked up to watch Mavin form the wire into a loop, then twist the end around the stick. He then reached out, snagging the body-part in the loop, then snapping his arm back hard to pull the hand from the light and send it flying over the fence and go skidding across the paved ground.

Danny looked from the hand, then to a smirking Mavin. The older detective held up the stick. " Innovation, Messer. You really need to think on your feet better."

Had Danny's wrist not hurt, he would have jumped onto the scaffold and punch Mavin in the throat. Instead, he took as deep a breath as his aching chest would allow, then moved over to the hand and picked it up carefully.

" Bring my kit," he said, turning the bloodied and mutilated hand over. It was so bloated and stiff that it was difficult to say whether it had belonged to a man or a woman.

Mavin came over, setting the kit down beside Danny and holding out a plastic bag. Danny dropped the hand into it, smearing blood on the bag's sides. Mavin held it up and shined his light on it, making its mutilation all that more grotesque.

" Blood's still wet. This must have been recent."

Danny let out a tired breath. " Great."

" We need to call this in, get people to comb this place over."

" I thought you said it was too early for a new body?"

Mavin shrugged. " Maybe the game changed."

Danny inwardly cringed at the word 'game.' He was starting to hate that word.

" But first," Mavin said. " We need to turn this little beauty in."

Danny cringed again. Mavin had the worst choice in words.

Mavin started heading back to the car, but before he did, he turned to Danny.

" Oh yeah. Looks like there's some kind of substance on the railing. You might want to get a sample."

" You think?" Danny snapped viciously. Taking up his kit in his working hand, he went back to the scaffold and stepped onto the second level. The pain was tolerable now, unless he moved in the wrong way. But he became distracted from it by the sensation of his back feeling strangely exposed. He instinctively turned, his eyes darting upward to windows as black as empty eye sockets. He was acting out a pointless desire, a brief attack of paranoia with no basis except a feeling. Annoyed with himself, he shook his head and turned back.

Still using one hand he took a swab and rubbed it along the rail. Whatever the substance was it allowed the swab to glide frictionless over the rail. Danny held the swab up, letting the wan light reflect off the glossy stuff. Looking back at the rail, he saw the same glossy shine smeared the length of the rail.

Danny's heart plummeted, his gaze shifting back to the swab. His jaw tensed so tightly that his teeth could have cracked.

" A trap," he murmured, his hand shaking with both fury and dread. " It was a freakin' trap."

NOTE

'Tis a short chapter, I know. Sneak peek - Aiden in the next chapter, and she has something important to say.


	10. Words of Wisdom and Warning

Ch. 9

Words of Wisdom/Warning

" We're getting overtime for all this, right?" Aiden asked Stella. Stella looked up from her examination of the blood-soaked sheet to regard the younger woman on the other side of the table.

" We better be. We've must have looked this thing over ten times already. I don't know what anyone expects us to find."

Aiden set her elbow on the table to rest her chin on her gloved fist. " You know, I think I'm starting to miss paper work."

Stella looked back up at Aiden with a small smile tugging at her lips. " That bored, huh?"

Aiden shrugged. " The sheet smells. And yet, despite how sick that smell makes me, I'm starving. Let's just call it a night. We can stare at the sheet for hours tomorrow."

Aiden felt a slight breeze touch the back of her neck, and she turned to see Danny shouldering the door open to enter the lab. In one hand he carried a bloodied bag and a swab container, and the other hand he held shakily against his chest. The look he wore on his face was pure Danny; part penetrating intent and part pent up anger.

Aiden lifted her head from her fist in surprise, her gaze following Danny has he made his way around the table. He was hurt, there was no denying it, and in other places beside his wrist. There were small spots of blood on his shirt and he was walking with hunched shoulders indicative of a man with pain in his chest. His face was also slightly pale and his breath quick and heavy to boot.

He tossed the bag and swab onto the table. " Someone needs to process that," he said quickly in a strained voice. He then went back around the table to leave, but not before Aiden caught him by the end of his jacket.

" Danny, hey, whoa, what happened? Why's their blood on you?"

Danny turned to Aiden, his throat moving in a tight swallow, his eyes hard and cold.

" I fell on a fence."

" What?" Stella asked, straightening.

" I slipped and fell on a fence. Can I go now? I have this crazy feeling that I should probably go see a doctor. If that's all right with you, I mean."

He continued on, pulling away sharply from Aiden's grasp. Aiden exchanged a bewildered look with Stella. Stella jerked her head toward the bag.

" I'll handle this. Go see what's up."

Aiden nodded once, removing her lab coat to set it on the chair. She hurried from the lab, taking long strides to catch up with the taller Danny.

" Danny, wait up," she called. She grabbed him by his good arm to slow him down. " It might not be a good idea if you drive. I'll take you."

Danny shrugged. " Whatever."

Aiden rolled her eyes at his reply. " Then stop and wait two seconds so I can go get my stuff and check out."

Danny finally did stop five feet from the door. Aiden patted him on the shoulder blade.

" Good. Now stay. If you walk out that door before I come back, I swear, Danny, I'll break your other arm."

Danny didn't respond, just stare out through the doors into the deep night. Sighing, Aiden rushed off to get her stuff.

CSINY

Danny's mood was infectious. He was sitting in perfect silence, staring out the window as he rapidly tapped his left hand against his thigh. He never did know how to sit still. It was as though his body was a cage for an immeasurable amount of energy that was forever seeping out. Aiden could almost feel that energy, and it was negative to the tenth degree. It was also starting to bring about her own feelings of agitation.

The lights of cars, buildings, and along the streets flashed by them erratically. Aiden had her window rolled down, and could smell rain in the air. She even managed to catch the distant peel of thunder above the cacophony of traffic. It might have been a pleasant drive had Danny been more conversational.

Finally, she could take his muteness no longer.

" Okay, Messer, spit it out. What - _exactly_ - happened tonight, huh? When did you decide to pick a fight with a fence? And did Mavin have something to do with it?"

Danny snapped his head around to look out the windshield. He shifted, practically slamming his back against the seat. " SOB had everything to do with it."

" Yeah? Spill."

" It was a trap, Aiden. We were led into a trap."

At this, Aiden snapped her own head around to look at Danny briefly in alarm, then snapped it back. " What?"

" The whole thing was set up just so someone would slip and fall. I'm betting that stuff I got on the swab is like Vaseline or oil or something. I stepped onto this scaffold to get this severed hand hanging on the other side of the fence, slipped, then took on the fence not to mention the pavement. And Mavin…" Danny shifted again. The angrier he got, the more in motion he became.

" What? What'd he do?"

" He gets the stupid hand. He throws together this snare with a wire and stick and gets the hand. Did he even suggest something like that? Hell no! He has me climb up there…" Danny shook his head, then looked directly at Aiden. She did not have to see his gaze; she could feel it like an increase of pressure focused on the side of her head.

" He knew Aiden. I swear he knew it was a trap, and let me go up to take the fall and prove himself right. The guy's a freakin' sick son of a…" he trailed off in a mumbled hail of swearing, turning his fury-filled attention back out the window.

Now that it was all out in the open, Aiden felt her own irritation begin to subside. She didn't totally agree with Danny that Mavin had made Danny a lab rat to test for traps, but then again she hadn't been there, and she wasn't about to set Danny off just to argue about it.

" Sounds to me like you need a partner switch," she said.

" Mac offered it."

Aiden could feel a fine misty spray against her cheek, so rolled up the window. " Why didn't you take it?"

" And let Mavin win? Let him know that he got to me?"

Aiden slapped the steering wheel with one hand. " Oh come on Danny! Don't _even_ go there! 'Let Mavin win' please. This isn't a game, Messer, you're not in competition."

Aiden flicked her eyes in Danny's direction, then did a double take. The look he gave her now actually sent a chill ripping down her back. It was dark and cool, as though all his anger had shifted onto her and only her.

" Your d--m right it's not a game," he replied, his voice sounding strained once again. Aiden kept darting her eyes from the road to Danny, feeling his stare burrow into her like a knife.

" Geez, Danny, chill. It was just a metaphor. Crap."

Danny blinked a few times, then looked away, the unnerving expression melting away into weariness. " Sorry. I just… I don't know. I'm letting the guy get to me, I'm aware of that. But I'm trying not to let that happen, Aid, I really am. But Mavin isn't making it any easier. In fact he's making it worse. He's…"

" A jerk?" Aiden pressed.

" He's weird. It's like he's got fifty chips on his shoulder coupled with some kind of mental problem. He's taking something out on me but I can't figure what. It's either this case, something else, or both."

Aiden came to a red light, slowed and stopped. She let Danny's words soak in, and pondered them while she waited for the light to change. When it turned green again, she spoke.

" You know, Danny, some people are just jerks. I mean we've all been there. We meet someone, a friend of a friend or something, and for some reason - we just don't like them. Sometimes it's jealousy, sometimes it's because their personality is so opposite that we just can't see eye to eye, whatever. Most of the time we try not to give into it, other times we do, especially in our line of work. We get a suspect in, jump to conclusions, and get pissed off when it turns out they didn't do anything. Of course it doesn't help that they're doing things to piss us off in the first place. Guys like Mavin? They don't need an excuse. If they want to dislike someone then they're going to do it. And, unfortunately, Mavin has decided not to like you."

Aiden chanced another glance at Danny, and was surprised to see that he had gone suddenly still, staring vacantly down at the dashboard.

" I did that."

" Did what?" she asked.

" The moment I met Mavin, I didn't like him."

" Well, he was there on a case with you as a suspect."

Danny tilted his head back against the headrest. " I let him get to me then too, not to mention in a bad way. He got in my face, I got in his, and we had it out in words."

Aiden turned her mouth up in a half-smile. " I hate to break it to you Messer, but you let everyone get to you. And you also have a way of getting to others. You provoke. The difference is, you don't provoke the people you work with. I guess you could say - you provoke the people who deserve to be provoked, who _need _to be provoked. You know how to use it, Mavin doesn't. Okay, sometimes you go a little too far, but you know when to quit and you know when to say sorry. Mavin, apparently, doesn't. He just keeps going."

Danny nodded stiffly in agreement. " Okay."

" All you can do is be the better man. Prove Mavin wrong about you, whatever he thinks of you, even if it makes him all that more of a creep."

Danny nodded again, but said nothing. They were coming up to the hospital glowing like a beacon in the starless night. Aiden heard Danny let out a breath as though in relief. She pulled into the parking lot, and as she turned off the ignition she looked over at Danny. He was unbuckling his seat belt and winced when it knocked into his arm. He no longer appeared so angry, just overly tired; but then it was getting late and he was probably still in quite a bit of pain.

" One more thing, Danny," she said just as he reached around to open the door. He looked over at her.

" What?"

Aiden held up a finger. " Do _not_ act all tough and strong and end up doing something that'll leave you worse off than you already are. You don't have to prove yourself to a guy like Mavin. Walk away, Danny. If things start to get really bad just turn and walk off. Don't let this guy get you killed."

Danny nodded, appearing a little perplexed. " Okay?"

" I mean it, Danny. And Mac'll mean it too when he finds out about this. He's gonna have a field day with it, I'm telling you now."

For the first time since arriving back at the lab, then getting into the car, Danny smiled. " Yes mom."

Aiden snatched up a wadded sack left over from one of her many lunches and threw it at Danny. " Knock it off with that mom crap while you're at it. Now let's go assess the damage."

NOTE

**Jenny -** I understand what you mean about the swearing, and I am aware of it. The thing is, the last story I did I tried to replace the swears with something tame, but people - not so much complained - but weren't fond of it. Really the sensitizing thing is more of a personal vendetta (don't ask). Though I may start spelling out hell, I will continue what I'm doing with the four-letter words. I will try to spiffy it up some when I set about doing revisions.

Sneak Previews - Eewwwww! I'll just leave it at that :)


	11. Various Pains

Important! Bad News! See note below.

Ch. 10

Various Pains

It was funny, almost laughable, how three minute, near invisible hairline cracks could cause so much pain. Even the doctor had sounded apathetic about them as he explained the situation and even showed the location of the fractures on the X-ray. All three cracks were located at where the ribs of the chest joined with the breastbone. They were like a thin, fine pencil line on the ghostly image of Danny's bones, and his immediate impression of them was 'why the hell does it hurt so much?' There was no need for any kind of bandaging.

His wrist had been fractured but not enough for a cast, just a plastic splint that allowed him mobility of his fingers. Danny maintained an attitude of indifference toward it all, but inside he felt a sense of relief that he could not express in words. His biggest worry in coming to the doctor was having things turn out worse than they were, and him being pulled off the case because of it. But he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be taken off for a few minor cracks.

Aiden begged to differ.

" You just wait. Come in tomorrow and Mac'll escort your butt back out the door," she said on their way back to the lab. Danny refused to let Aiden drop him off at home just to pick him up again tomorrow. He still had one good hand to drive with.

Danny shook his head. " No, no way. Not in the middle of all this. It would cause delays dragging someone else in and bringing them up to speed."

" Danny, the whole department's on this. I don't think it's going to upset the whole balance of nature just because one CSI was taken off."

Danny's overwhelming relief began to deflate, but he kept shaking his head. Mac wouldn't do that. He'd seen Mac work cases with injuries, though they mainly consisted of a broken finger and a cut arm. Still, if Danny was capable of being useful then why shouldn't he be allowed to remain?

Though Danny felt his reasoning sound, he still felt nervous about confronting Mac. He was not going to be happy about what happened. He would have words with Mavin, no doubt. But Danny was certain he would have a few words with him as well.

CSINY

Danny strode stiffly into the crime lab feeling less than rested from having gone to bed at one in the morning. He was good at maintaining outward appearances of calm, but internally his heart felt as though it were tripping over itself. He kept the sleeve of his jacket pulled down almost to his fingertips, eschewing his jacket in a way that gave him a disheveled appearance.

He made his way to the lab where he could see Stella working at one of the many sterile-white tables. She had bottles of chemicals and a tray of tubes in front of her, each tube with a colored liquid at the base. Danny came up to the window and tapped it. Stella's head shot up to smile at him. She set down one of the chemical bottles, picked up a clipboard, then hurried out.

Danny was about to speak the moment she came out but she beat him to it.

" It's a fake."

Danny started with a slight twitch of his head in surprise. " The hand?"

Stella handed him the clipboard. " Yep. Dr. Hawkes made that nice little discovery the moment he looked at it. It's a novelty item like what you get at a costume shop. I've been running some chemical analysis to determine what it's made of and backtrack it to the manufacturer, which will hopefully lead us to the store where it was purchased. Long shot, I know, but it never hurts to try. That's not all though. Flip to the next page."

Danny turned the first page over the clip and studied the second page. He quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

" The hand's a fake but the blood's real?"

" It came from the body of the first vic. Or, to put it more accurately, the second vic. The one _not_ found on the road of decay."

" What about the substance I found on the scaffold?"

Stella flipped over to the third page. " Vaseline."

Danny snorted out a laugh. " Thought as much."

He flipped the pages back over and handed the clipboard to Stella. " So, final conclusion, it was a freakin' trap?"

Stella grimaced. " Pretty much. The guy's like a demented twelve-year-old. Speaking of traps, how're you doing?"

Danny lifted his arm, regarded it for a moment, then pulled his sleeve down momentarily to show Stella the splint.

" Doesn't look too bad," She said.

Danny lowered his arm and pulled the sleeve back down. " Feels pretty bad to me. Where's Mac?"

" He's in the morgue with a friend of one of our vics."

" So we finally got Ids?"

Stella nodded. " On both. The first vic _found_ was named Alicia Ansek, and the second found Rachel Harrison. It was an easy find since both were reported missing. Alicia's friend was the last to see her before she vanished. Rachel, on the other hand, we're still looking. Her family identified her, but so far there doesn't seem to be any friends that she might have gone out with the night she died. So, you want to help me in the wonderfully tedious business of analyzing a rubber hand?"

Danny smirked. " Sounds like you're doing fine on your own. Besides," he lifted his splinted hand as he began walking away. " I might be a little useless in that department."

Stella shook her head. " Yeah, right, whatever Messer."

Danny began making his way toward the morgue, but barely took five steps when he spotted Mac emerge from the constant flow of people, heading toward him. Danny stopped and waited for him while ignoring the urge to shove both his hands into his pockets as he normally did.

" Mac…" Danny began when Mac was near enough to hear, but Mac cut him off.

" Danny, I need you to head down to this address." He handed Danny a sheet of paper containing not only an address by a summary account as well.

" New vic?" Danny said in alarm. " Isn't it a little early? I thought the Hangman always waited a week."

" I just got the call a few minutes ago, but I've got something else I need to deal with."

" The vic's friend?"

Mac creased his brow. " Actually the vic's apartment. But how'd you know?"

" Stella told me. Yeah, I can take this. Sure it's a Hangman and not some new deal?"

" From what the officer told me, it sounds like it. I want you to take Dr. Farrone along for the ride. She can tell you for certain."

Danny folded up the paper and stuck it in the pocket of his jacket. " I'm surprised Mavin hasn't called me yet." Relieved would have been the better word, but it would have only caused Mac to suggest a partner change.

" Give it a moment. You're cell will be ringing soon enough. I'll send Farrone your way. So how's your arm?"

Danny looked down at his feet to hide his abashed grin. He had learned, long ago, never to be surprised by what Mac did know, only when there was something he didn't know.

" Who told?" he asked all the same out of simple curiosity.

" Stella when I found her processing evidence from the place you and Mavin supposedly went."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck in trepidation. " Yeah, sorry about that Mac. I know it was mine to deal with…"

Mac held up one hand to stop Danny. " It's all right, you had a reason. Besides, the whole department is on this case so it's never one-man's evidence. I was the one called on to this new scene but I'm sending you. Chances are there's going to be a lot of that. You can fill me in on the details of what happened later."

Danny let out a breath and nodded. " Cool. I'll talk to you when I get back then."

They parted, and Danny went to go wait by the doors for Anita. As he waited, staring out the doors to the sunlit streets, watching people strolling by wearing light jackets or short sleeves, his cell phone went off. Danny cringed, though he could not help the bitter smile, and answered.

CSINY

The scene was located across town, far from the previous two scenes, at a Victorian style home that was going through a massive makeover. As Danny pulled up to the curb in front of the house his mind flashed back to every horror flick he had ever seen involving some massive house both old, decrepit, yet classic. It was a huge place, three stories, with a covered front porch. The entire place was one dark shade of brown, with dirty windows and a yard choked with weeds. A touch of paint and some lawn care would eventually kill the creepy vibe, but right now Danny wanted to laugh at the absurd cliché they had just come upon.

Anita shared his sentiments, speaking them as she stepped out of the car. " I believe we may have found the twin sister to the Amityville Horror joint."

Danny chuckled as he grabbed his kit and camera and made his way around the car. Anita walked along side him up the cracked walk, her black heels clicking. She was in pants today rather than a skirt, and the heels of her shoes were shorter and wider. The woman knew how to dress for the right occasion, which was a sure sign that she definitely knew what she was doing.

A uniformed cop of middle years greeted them at the door, lifting the police tape to let them in.

" One of the renovators working the place found it this morning. We could barely get the address the way he was rambling. The guy was seriously spooked, and I don't blame him."

" Has detective Mavin arrived?" Danny asked.

" Yeah, a couple of minutes ago. Oh, and I need to warn you. The lights won't work since the electricity's being worked on."

The cop took them up the stairs. The dirt caking the windows made the place dark and muggy, bringing to Danny's mind image from the movie Psycho. They turned left at the top of the stairs and entered large room that could have been used as a study or sitting room for old ladies who practiced tea-time and luncheons. It was dark with most of the windows being boarded up say for two. The light spilling into the room was poor with a misty quality created by disturbed dust.

Two figures stood before a long dining room table, passing their flashlights over something lying on top. Neither figure spoke, just observed.

" Hey Mavin," Danny announced, setting down his kit and placing the camera around his neck. Mavin whirled around, shining his light in Danny's face. The beam cut through his eyes to stab the back of his brain, forcing him to snap his head away.

" What've you got?" Danny asked petulantly, fishing his own light from his kit and clicking it on.

" Dinner time, that's what," Mavin replied just as petulantly. He then lightly whacked the other figure on the shoulder. The figure turned, revealing a Hispanic woman with shoulder-length black hair and a thin, oval face.

" Danny Messer, this is Detective Diega, my partner."

Diega nodded a greeting. Danny nodded back, then looked at Anita.

" This is Dr. Farrone. She's the profiler working the case."

Mavin snorted. " 'Bout time one of you guys showed up. Hope you're ready for this, Farrone."

Diega rolled her eyes. Farrone gave Mavin a flat stare.

" I helped work the last case, detective Mavin, if you don't recall. I was ready before I got here."

Danny smirked. He liked this profiler.

" So, what do we have today?" She asked, moving toward the table. Mavin stepped aside to let her see. She pulled a small light from the pocket of her dress-coat and sent the beam passing over the body of a man splayed out on the polished surface of the table. Danny joined her, adding his own light to the mix.

The man looked to be around his thirties with dark brown hair that was beginning to recede back from the forehead. He was lean and fit, wearing sweats and a white T-shirt soaked through and through with blood. His throat had been cut and there was a rope around his neck with the end coiled beside him like a sleeping snake.

Both Danny and Anita widened their eyes.

" This is new," Anita remarked. This gave Danny a swiftly sinking feeling.

" This may seem redundant, but that doesn't sound good."

Anita shrugged, then began moving around the table while keeping her light on the body. " Actually, just this configuration is, but deviating from the usual path of hanging isn't. There was one guy we found who had been slit, hung, then cut down to be placed in his bathtub. It's always unusual with the male victims. A little extra something I guess you can say." She moved her light in closer to the chest, revealing a slit in the clothing.

" See this?" She said, pointing to the chest without touching. " The shirt's been open. How much you wanna bet the chest was sliced and the heart removed."

Danny looked up at Anita in horror. " Not to eat, I hope." He then lifted his camera and began taking pictures.

" Well, they haven't really crossed over into that area yet. Chances are you'll find the heart else where. Where's the snake?"

Over here," Diega said, leading them over to the wall across from the head of the vic. Both women shone their flashlight on the image. Danny moved over to it and took a picture.

" So what's the deal here, doc?" Danny asked, taking one more picture. Anita moved back to the body.

" Well, there could be some deep-seated meaning behind the vic being on the table, like unhappy memories centered around family dinners. Or the killer just needed the table to cut out the heart. Like I said, it's always one step more with the men. I chalk it up to some form of jealousy. Perhaps, though this is just a theory, the reason the Hangman goes after men at all is because they mess things up. For example, the killer chooses his victim, tries to meet her at a club, but another man gets to her first. He either chases her off or takes her out. Either way the Hangman looses a victim, so compensates by killing the man that caused him to lose her. What matters is getting the victim and sticking to the schedule. But the alteration makes the killer angry, so he takes it a step farther to vent that anger."

Danny took more pictures of the body, then the splatters of blood on the floor. He then lowered the camera, snapped on some gloves, and carefully pulled back the slit in the shirt. Sure enough there was a deep, bloody gash starting from the collarbones and extending to the mid-section. Danny would leave the discovery of a missing organ to Dr. Hawkes.

" Pretty clean if he had a heart removed," he said. He had expected something more akin to the chest being split open.

" Our killer likes to keep things neat and tidy," Anita replied. " Besides, it's not open heart surgery. All he would need to do was slip in one hand to hold, and another with a scalpel to cut. He's neat, but not always precise."

" Whatever gets the job done," Mavin commented. " The guy's on a schedule. He can't afford the time to make it all pretty."

Danny crouched to look at the man's fingernails in search of blood and skin that might have been snagged while the vic fought back, but they were clean. Perhaps the killer had cleaned them, or perhaps the victim had never been given the chance to fight back.

Poor guy, Danny thought. Danny had long ago steeled himself to the sight of a bloody, mangled body , but he had managed to retain a sense of sympathy for the person who had occupied that body. It was not emotional involvement, just respect, as well as a reminder that one still did have a heart. It was one thing to be numbed to blood and guts, but another (even dangerous) matter to be numb in the soul.

Then Danny had a thought. " Hey doc, you know how you were talking about repercussions if the killer's routine is altered in a way he doesn't want?"

Farrone nodded. " Yeah?"

" Do you think it would involve something like this?"

" Depends."

" On what?"

" On whether you're a man or a woman."

CSINY

Earlier

The aftermath of viewing the body was a delicate matter that needed to be handled with care. No matter how strong someone tried to remain on the outside, inside all emotions were teetering on the edge.

Alicia's friend, Samantha Malone, seemed to become void of all emotions on seeing her best friend's pale body and sightless eyes. She confirmed the corpse as being Alicia, then turned away to walk from the morgue in a kind of trance. Mac led to her to row of seats just outside. She sat down mechanically, leaning back stiffly with her hands folded limply on her knees. Her eyes shimmered with water and were already turning red.

Mac stood on her right side, keeping silent to give her a moment to process. Flack came out to join them but stayed a few feet back to give the young woman some space.

Samantha was around the vic's age and of medium height with straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. She had arrived straight from work, and was still wearing her Matre'd uniform consisting of a clean-white shirt, black trousers, and a red vest.

After about three minutes, Mac sat down beside her, choosing his wording for his questions carefully. Pushing too hard at this time might cause her to bolt, or shut herself off.

" You and Alicia were good friends?" he asked, starting simple. Samantha swallowed as tears dripped from her eyes onto her trousers.

" Since Elementary School," she replied in a voice that was almost a whisper.

" What was she like?"

Alicia's lips twitched as though wanting to smile but unable to, while her eyes became unfocused and distant. " Shy. Quiet. But easy to talk to. She was always a good listener. She was really into music. She liked to sing."

" Did she want to be a musician?"

" She was studying to be a music teacher. She was working at the restaurant to pay for school. Two mores years, that's all she needed was two more years."

Mac glanced over at Flack who had moved in closer and was taking notes. " What grade was she going to teach?" Flack asked to incorporate himself into the conversation.

Alicia quickly wiped her eyes. " Elementary, first through fifth. She liked kids."

Mac took a deep breath in ready for his plunge into the harder questions.

" Samantha, I know this is hard for you, but right now we really need your help, so we may be asking you questions that you might find difficult. If you do, just say the word and we'll stop."

Samantha did not reply, just nod.

" Around the time Alicia disappeared, you went to a club, right?"

Samantha nodded again and wiped her eyes. " She was feeling a little down because her boyfriend dumped her for this… skank. So some friends and I decided she needed a couple of nights out to get drunk and forget. We've been club hopping the entire week. The last I saw her, we were at our fifth club. A lot of us got pretty wasted."

Easy prey, Mac thought dourly. " Did Alicia talk to any men that night?"

Samantha raised her eyebrows. " She talked to a lot of guys. Like I said, we were pretty wasted. Alicia even more than the rest of us. I started getting worried so I called a cab and saw her home. That was the last time…"

She trailed off, swallowing, and wiped her eyes more forcefully.

" Any guys in particular that seemed especially interested in Alicia?" Flack asked.

Samantha's brow creased in thought. " I don't… really recall. We all had someone we were talking to, and we never stuck with them long. We got separated for a time too."

" When you saw Alicia home," Mac asked next. " Was she dropped off or seen to her place. I'm assuming she lived in an apartment."

Samantha nodded, this time wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Flack pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.

" Thanks," she said, and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. " Yeah, she lived in an apartment. I saw her up. She could hardly walk. I left her on her bed to sleep it off, then left. I even locked the door. I remember that, because I still have her key. I was going to give it back to her."

" But she didn't show for work," Mac finished for her.

Samantha chuckled softly. " I don't know, I didn't go in either. I called in sick, just because I was tired. I can handle alcohol. I don't get a lot of hangovers. But I was certain Alicia would call in sick. She always got loopy just drinking wine. It was the day after when she didn't show. I wasn't worried until the third day. She hardly misses work. I went to her school and asked around. She had missed her classes too, she never misses those. That's when I called to report her missing."

Samantha fell silent for a long time, and Mac and Flack let her. They had what they needed question-wise.

" Thank you for your time, Miss Malone," Mac said after a moment. " You've been very helpful."

Mac was about to rise when Samantha's head shot around. She stared at him directly in the eyes, speaking without words the honesty she needed from him at that moment.

" He killed her, didn't he," she stated. Mac was taken back.

" Who?"

" That man, that Hangman guy. That's all you hear about on the news. But they didn't say who the victims were. They said the police wouldn't give out that information yet. But Alicia was one of them, wasn't she."

Mac hesitated for a moment, but decided it better to tell Samantha now before the news did. " Yes. We didn't want that information out until family and friends were contacted first."

Samantha let out a deep, shuddering breath as her tears fell more freely. " I know. I just… I knew, but I needed to be sure. I had this feeling, this really bad feeling, after I dropped her off. But I… I never…"

She convulsed with sobs, and leaned forward to hide her face as she wept.

" It's not your fault," Mac said, not in an act of comfort, but out of understanding of the guilt grief tended to bring about. " You did what you could, and you did everything right. You left her in safety. From the way it sounds, her killer came to her and she let him in, probably thinking him harmless, probably knowing him from the club. There was nothing you could have done except for what you already did. So you have no reason to feel guilty."

Samantha lifted her head, pressing the tissue against her eyes though it was soaked through.

" Would you like someone to drive you home?" Flack asked. " We were told you came by cab."

Samantha breathed deeply. " Yes," she choked out. " Thank you."

Both she and Mac stood, and the three left the morgue with Flack calling a uniform in to take Samantha home. They waited outside until a policewoman pulled up, and watched as Samantha got in and left.

" Game plan?" Flack asked.

" The vic's place," Mac replied.

" Think we'll find anything?"

" Nope."

NOTE

Bad news readers. I'm afraid updates will be a long-time coming. I won't be able to use my computer for a while since it's in need of some repairs. Hopefully it won't take long, but I'm not sure how long it will be before I get it back. Fear not! I'm going to continue the story by hand. So, once my computer is back up and running, all I need do is type up what I have written. It's never a good idea to stop writing in the middle of the story, but boy is my hand going to hurt. So, I apologize for the inconvenience, and leave you with this chapter that is not a dire cliffhanger.

Also, I apologize for any parts where I get Samantha's name mixed up with Alicia's. I tried fixing it but I'm not sure if I got it all.


	12. Heartless

Note: Okay, here's the deal. The computer situation has not, I repeat, _not_ been remedied. The hard drive will eventually be sent to my brother, the computer expert, for a bit of maintenance, but not as of yet. We need to ensure that someone will be around to pick it up when it arrives, and other such complications. So, in the meantime, I decided to go ahead with another update, maybe two if time permits and we procrastinate on sending the computer off. It's driving me crazy, not updating. It's just so… wrong. And writing by hand is unpleasant.

Ch. 11

Heartless

Alicia's apartment spoke volumes about who the young woman had been. And what it spoke of was innocence bordering on her being very much in touch with her inner child. It also made her seem unlike the type who would go club hopping every night on a whim, but then Mac supposed that a bad enough break-up might have that effect. Even the most innocent tended to have a wilder side.

The young woman's living room was plain white, but flecked with the color of fake flowers placed in corners and on shelves in hand-painted pots of fired clay. Her walls were decorated with paintings of gardens, kittens, and birds. In the corner china cabinet were crystal figurines of animals, wind up music boxes, and hand-painted china plates. Topping off the array of sweetness was a white rabbit plushy nestled in the corner of her couch with a pink ribbon around its neck.

But there was a flaw to the sweetness, and that was Alicia's choice of movies; all action and adventure. Guy-flicks for the most part with a romantic comedy here and there to offset the pattern. Part of her 'wild side'.

" This girl really liked animals," Flack said from Alicia's bedroom. He stepped out, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder. " Her bed's practically buried in 'em. You know, if I hadn't heard Hawkes' tox report for myself, I would have sworn this girl never took a drink in her life."

Mac set his kit down on the floor and opened it. " That's why we know better than to base all thought on first impressions."

" Kind of sick if you think about it," Flack went on. " I mean now that we know Alicia a little more. She seemed really nice. I knew this girl in high school once named Annabelle. She was kind of like Alicia I think. Quiet, really friendly to everyone, kind of shy. And I think she had a stuffed-animal fetish thing going on too. The thing was she was so nice that you never wanted anything to happen to her, you know? She became kind of like everyone's little sister. She hung out with my group a lot. We weren't super tight or anything, me and her, but I watched out for her like the rest. I'd say Alicia was that type but - and no offense to her friends - it doesn't seem like anyone was watching out for her all that much."

Mac had set about searching for prints, though he was certain that all he would find would be the prints of Alicia and her friends.

" People can't be watched forever, Flack," Mac said, opening the door to dust the knob. " Do you even know where this girl is whose back you always had?"

" Yeah, she got married to a buddy of mine."

Mac smiled as he took some tape to lift the prints. " She was lucky. One friend was a future cop, the other a future mate. Alicia was watched, just by the wrong kind. She was in trouble and didn't even know it. No amount of 'watching' would have saved her."

Mac focused his print gathering mostly on the door, but then attempted to gather what he could from the glass coffee table, then from the glasses on the counter and in the sink. After the prints, he searched the bedroom with an ultraviolet light, seeking out semen, then the living room in search of unseen bloodstains. But everything was clean down to the invisible spectrum level.

There was little else to be found or done; though Mac continued to glean the apartment for nearly two hours.

" So" Flack said after an extended period of silence, milling about in his causal but observant way. " You think she let this guy in?"

" So far," Mac replied, " seems that way. She probably met him at the club, he followed her home, waited until the friend left, and knocked on the door. Drunk as Samantha said Alicia was, she wouldn't be difficult to persuade."

Flack nodded. " And poor Alicia, none the wiser, was whisked away to the renovated building, probably under the pretense that it belonged to her charming caller and he wanted to show it off… or something like that. SOB. That's just freakin' sick."

Mac placed the gathered evidence back in his kit and closed it up.

" Well, I got all we could get. Let's head back and process."

CSINY

Next Day

Between the late nights and early mornings, Danny was fairly certain that he was pushing it. He had stayed overtime processing the blood used for the snake to match it to Alicia, then practically scoured every inch of the table for anything remotely useable. All he got was a manufacturing serial number a techy was running for him now. Following Stella's example by finding the manufacturing company, he could trace the table to a store and hopefully discover who purchased it.

He came in early today in hopes of snagging doctor Hawkes. The mortician had gone home before Danny had gotten around to speaking with him.

So Danny made his way to the cold steel and concrete chamber that was Dr. Hawkes' 'lair'. He was startled on arriving to see Dr. Farrone already there, watching as Hawkes pulled their male victim from the locker.

" And I thought getting up at the crack of dawn was early," he commented. " You get here when it was still dark?"

Anita grinned at Danny as he joined her and Hawkes. " This may sound unusual, but I'm a morning person. And I've never been much for sleep. Besides, I just got here four minutes after you, give or take."

" That's still early. So, doc, what've you got? Besides the lack of a heart and a crap load of missing blood."

Dr. Hawkes' lips turned up in a slight smirk. " Couldn't have put it better myself. Although I wouldn't have said quite so…"

" Bluntly?" Farrone finished.

" Exactly." Hawkes then unzipped the body bag and folded the two halves to the side. The vic's chest had been stitched closed, giving Danny the impression of a science experiment that hadn't worked out too good.

Dr. Hawkes pointed to the vertical incision along the breastbone. " The cut was made the entire length of the bone, separating the ribcage in what, I must admit, was a very neat and tidy fashion. No splintering, jagged ends, or veering. Just a clean, straight slice. Either your killer has some experience in surgery, or works as a butcher for a living."

Danny frowned in a slight grimace. " That sounds wrong on a lot of levels, Hawkes."

Hawkes shrugged. " Sorry. As for where the heart _used_ to be, that ended up a little messier. What wasn't cut was torn. But I guess that's what comes about when you can't see what you're doing."

" Well," said Anita," we at least know what he's using to hold the blood for his next masterpiece. Was he hung or was the rope just there for looks?"

" Strangled, actually," Dr. Hawkes replied, then pointed at the red and blue mark around the throat. " The bruising on the neck is positioned too low for it to be a hanging. It would be higher up and not so centered in the throat had it been a hanging. See? This man's killer appears to have been pretty strong. He really laid it in."

Danny stuck his cast-less hand into his pocket. " This man's killer ain't too fond of men."

At that moment, Anita's phone chirped. Snatching it from the pocket of her gray jacket, she flipped it open with an apologetic smile to Danny and Hawkes.

" Farrone…" She moved away from the two men to talk in private. Hawkes zipped the bag back up.

" Man hater, huh?" he asked as he shoved the body back into its temporary crypt.

" Farrone says it has something to do with jealousy. They get in his way, he kills 'em."

Hawkes closed the hatch of the locker with a resounding thump and click. " What would you call what he does to the women then? Love?"

Danny took a deep, uneasy breath and let it out slowly. " I do not even want to go there." He took his hand from his pocket to point at Farrone. " That's her department."

They heard Farrone say good-bye then snap her phone shut. She walked back over to the two men, wearing a look of pale bewilderment over her usual cheerful features.

" That was Detective Taylor. Guess what, they found another body."

Danny went rigid in alarm. " Little early, isn't it?"

Anita could only shrug, then hurried away to go meet up with Mac. Danny looked at Hawkes, and Hawkes sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth. " Love, hate. If you ask me, it sounds like there's no getting on this guy's good side."

Danny nodded uneasily. " D--d if you do, d--d if you don't. That's a lot of hell-bent fury he's dishin' out."


	13. When Tomorrow Comes

Note: Okay, now, officially, this may be it for a time. But I make no promises. Life is unpredicatble and procrastination is big in my family.

Ch. 12

When Tomorrow Comes

Midnight was the estimated time of death, and it seemed fitting. Just about every, and any, religion or cult had a taboo concerning midnight: the witching hour. To Mac it wasn't such a superstition. All bad reputations came from somewhere, and midnight always had a way of living up to its own. It was an appropriate time for a death that had now officially knocked the entire Hangman case on its side.

The new vic was found, hanging, from the exposed girders of an office complex under total reconstruction. The woman's name was Vicky Anderson, a thirty year old executive who had obviously gone out on the town straight after work since she was still in her business attire of black slacks and a dress-coat. But there was another twist to this death - the woman's wrists had been slit rather than her throat, allowing the blood to drip down the fingers. Blood still continued to drip like crimson tears from the manicured nails.

Farrone's wide-eyed but silent reaction made it apparent that her head was reeling at this new set up. The first words out of her mouth, though murmured was "copy-cat." Yet the uncertainty of this was betrayed in her eyes.

Mac and Stella made their routine scrounging, then handed off what was left to another forensic Mac had called in. They accompanied the body back to the morgue to wait out Dr. Hawkes' assessment. Stella took the gathered evidence to process the blood used for the serpent. Farrone was still considering a copycat killing, but she was too uncertain at this point. Only the blood would tell for certain.

As they waited, she paced slowly around in a circle, staring hard at the floor with her hands folded behind her back and her brow creased. Mac watched her for a moment and could almost feel her mental flux pour off her in waves. She may not have quite the number of years that Castle had, but she certainly threw herself at the work more deeply than he had.

They had probably only been there a few minutes when Danny arrived, walking fast and rigid with his usual agitation. He made straight for Mac and began speaking quietly.

" I just saw Mavin, and he looked pissed. He was talking to an officer so I thought I'd beat him to the punch and give you a heads up."

Mac nodded. " Thanks, Danny. When he'd come in?"

At this, Danny became confused. " Actually, I'm not sure. But I think he's been here a while. I saw him when I was coming back up after Dr. Farrone left. Thing was, he didn't talk to me or nothin'. I thought for sure he was gonna dog me with a crap-load of questions about the evidence."

" Do you know why he was upset?"

They heard loud footfalls echoing quickly toward them.

" Hey!" Mavin called, but neither Mac nor Danny looked his way.

" I don't know. Maybe because he just heard about this new vic…"

" Hey, Taylor!" Mavin called again. This time Mac finally turned to face the irate detective. Mavin halted before Mac, glaring at him with frigid eyes. Mac returned the gaze with his own countenance of tired impatience.

" What Mavin?"

Mavin averted his eyes to the doors of the morgue, then turned them back to Mac.

" What's this I'm hearing about a new body?"

" We found a new body," Mac replied matter-of-factly.

" Cut the crap, Taylor. Why wasn't I called in?"

" Because you're not the only detective working this case. You can't have them all, Mavin. But I am a little surprised you're only hearing about this now. Maybe you should check to see if you shut off your cell by mistake."

Mavin began rubbing the side of his tired face. " I had something else going on. Look, you're wasting your time. No way can this be our guy's work. He never deviates from the game."

At this, Farrone looked up, though she continued to pace. " He has lately."

Mavin turned, eyeing Farrone as though she had just materialized out of no where, though he seemed more annoyed by it than surprised.

" You know that for sure?"

" We will once Stella deals with the blood," Mac answered. " If the blood used for the serpent is from our last victim, then we'll know it was no copy-cat job. And what's this other _thing_ you've got going on?"

Mavin looked back at Mac. " We finally located someone who last saw Rachel Harrison. I've been waiting all day for her, but she hasn't shown. So I sent someone to get her."

" And yet you accuse me of not keeping _you _informed. You're very much a hypocrite, you know that Mavin? When is she coming in?"

" Soon enough. Why? This one ain't yours, Mac, she's mine. You had your witness, it's my turn now."

Mac sighed, maintaining calm inside and out. " That's fine Mavin. Here's the thing, though. I want Danny in on the interview."

" Me and Diega got it."

" Take Danny," Mac said more slowly and with a hard edge to his voice. He didn't know Diega too well, but he knew Mavin, and did not trust him with a potential witness. Mavin tended to treat everyone like a suspect.

Mavin rolled his eyes. " Fine, whatever. She's supposed to be here in five minutes." He turned his head to look at Danny. " You'd better be up there."

With that said, he turned and stalked off. All three watched him go in growing perplexity.

" What crawled up his butt and died?" Danny murmured.

Mac shook his head. " I could probably name a hundred things. Listen, Danny. When you go to this interview I need you to try and keep things under control. Try to do most of the asking. Mavin's questioning techniques have yet to ever be reliable if you get my meaning."

" Mavin really hasn't change, you know that?" Anita said, grinning and folding her arms as she paced methodically in a figure eight.

Mac smiled. " Actually I think he's gotten worse."

Danny, however, did not look so amused. If anything he looked suddenly weary and nervous. Mac clapped him on the shoulder.

" You'll do fine."

Danny checked his watch, then adjusted his sleeve over his splint to hide it better.

" Yeah, sure."

CSINY

They were in the interrogation room, which Danny thought totally inappropriate. They were talking to a potential witness, not a suspect. But it was where Mavin had taken the girl, and had kept a deaf ear when Danny kept asking him about it. Now that they were here, Danny had no choice but to keep silent about it or risk upsetting the only one to step forward on Rachel's behalf.

Mavin had told Diega to wait outside since there was no reason to have three in the room. Not only did she comply; she seemed rather relieved about it, which was pretty deep foreboding in Danny's mind.

The girl, Angie Ronald, was in her mid-twenties, with waist-length honey-blonde hair streaked in highlights, pale green eyes, and a tan face. She was wearing a yellow blouse, jeans, and sandals, with a small green leather purse by her feet. She had her hands in her lap, twisting a soaked tissue between nails painted in glittering dark blue polish. Her cheeks glittered with shed tears, and her eyes glistened with more tears about to fall. But there was more than just sadness in her downcast eyes. There was also fear.

" I'm so sorry," she said, swallowing back a rising sob, " that I didn't come sooner. I just… I mean after I heard… what happened to Rachel... I got scared."

Danny was sitting across from her, but Mavin had opted to stand.

" Hey, it's okay," Danny said kindly. " I know this is hard."

" He won't come after me for this, will he?" Angie asked next, her wide, frightened eyes darting up to fix with Danny's gaze. The fear he saw in those eyes was verging on wild terror. " I mean, I keep hearing about all this Hangman crap on the news. Then I get this call that Rachel… that he…" Tears fell heavily down her cheeks and off her chin.

Danny shook his head. If the Hangman had wanted this girl, then she would already be dead. " No, most likely not. Not the way this guy works. I just wouldn't go out partying for a few nights if I were you."

The panic flitted from Angie's eyes, but not the fear. Danny fell silent, deciding to let Angie do the talking. She wanted to talk, so there was no need to nudge her into saying anything.

Mavin, however, had other ideas.

" What were you doing the night you last saw Rachel?"

Lifting the tissue, Angie rubbed her already red nose. " We went out for drinks, like we usually do. We always go out for drinks when we can, meet guys where we can. But we never go home with anyone," she added quickly. " We never go that far. We just like to talk and see who we can meet." She sniffed, wiping her nose again. " It's kind of a game we play. We see how many guys we can talk to in an hour, keep tabs and tally them. Whoever talks to the most, we have to buy them dinner on the weekend. It's just something we do for fun."

" And is that what you were doing the last time you saw her?" Mavin asked next.

Angie placed her hands on the table and began unwadding the tissue. She nodded stiffly. " Yes."

" Were there a lot of guys where you went?" Danny asked.

Angie nodded again. " Tons. We usually go to sports bars. There was a big game on that night, and it was a weekend. We were all over the place, talking to just about everyone."

" So you didn't stay together?" Danny said.

This time, Angie shook her head no. " It was crowded, hard to keep track. Rachel won that night, though. We take names, you see. That's how we tally. She got fifteen."

Danny could not help a slight mental groan at that. He knew his next question was pointless, but he asked all the same. " Did you see any of the men Rachel talked with?"

Again, Angie shook her head. " I wasn't paying attention. When we saw eachother again it was back out our table to write down the names."

Danny was a little shocked by this. They may have been just gathering names, but it was still a dangerous game they had been playing. Angie could have just as easily been the victim, and Rachel the witness. But Danny had a feeling that there was probably more to Rachel being the one on the slab and Angie the one still breathing.

" Angie," Danny began, thinking his words over carefully as he looked at his clasped hands in thought. " Was Rachel… Was Rachel having relationship problems of any kind? Was she," he shrugged, " I don't know, eager to meet someone?"

Angie gave a small, weak laugh. " We all were. That's why we played the game. Not to actually meet anyone, just to make it less serious. We were kind of poking fun at the whole dating scene, to help us feel better. Angie did go about it different, though. She was more... spontaneous, I guess. More open. She would talk to anyone no matter how drunk or weird they were. She'd talk to old men, bikers, goths, cowboys, anyone, and the weirder the better. She won a lot because she would always talk to the ones we wouldn't. She got a lot of them to buy drinks for her. She'd even promise to meet them out back or to go with them, then would sneak off and wait for us."

That explains a lot, Danny thought. Cold though it was to think, the girl had made herself an open target.

Mavin asked the next question. " Was there ever a time she went with anyone?"

" Once or twice, but only to another bard or a club. We'd always follow. She was wild, yeah, but she wasn't stupid."

" Did she ever ask anyone to come over to her place?" he asked next.

Angie shrugged. " I don't know. No one ever came with us, if that's what you mean. We always took one car. If they met her later at her place, then maybe. I don't know. Angie was always… unpredictable. She would hint at things, at having people over maybe. I never knew if they were true. She always liked to exaggerate. She wasn't a liar or anything. She just liked stretching the truth. There was no saying with her."

" Did you get wasted the night before she vanished?" was Mavin's next question. Angie's thin eyebrows shot up. Danny straightened, averting his gaze to the table then two-way mirror to hide his own startlement and keep from turning to glare at Mavin.

" You mean were we drunk?" Angie asked back in a voice that quavered, her eyes flashing. " We were at a bar, what do you think? But it wasn't that bad. We were aware, and the one picked to drive always made sure we didn't do anything stupid."

Mavin kept going, his tone thick with accusation. " Well, apparently your plan, and game I might add, backfired. Rachel vanished, and you didn't report her missing."

Angie's eyes widened. " We took her home! I remember. Vanessa remembers, ask her. She was the designated driver. _We took her home_."

" Then why didn't you report her missing?"

Angie, shaking her head, looked down at her hands that were now slowly shredding the tissue. More tears dripped from her eyes onto her thumbs. " Because we didn't know. I told you, Rachel's the wild one. I mean she always ups and does things without telling us. She vanishes all the time. She was gone for two weeks once. Everyone was looking for her; her parents, cops, everyone. Then she shows up one day out of the blue, telling us all about her sudden trip to Atlantic City where she won three-hundred dollars but lost two-hundred betting on some gray-hound race. So, no, we didn't report her, because every time we did we got in trouble for it after she popped back up. We thought… we thought she was just doing it again."

No wonder she was the first victim, was Danny's thought. Rachel had been pure gold in terms of a target.

" Well," Mavin said suddenly. " Maybe you should have risked it. Then, maybe, Rachel would still be alive."

Angie's jaw clenched shut, her chin trembled, and her eyes darkened as new tears replaced the old. This time, Danny did not refrain from reacting. He stood abruptly and practically shoved Mavin toward the other end of the room.

" What the hell are you doing?" he asked in a low voice so that Angie could not hear. " She's a freakin' witness, Mavin, not the one who wrapped the rope around the girl's neck. She just lost her friend. Why're you giving her crap?"

Mavin shrugged indifferently. " They sometimes say more when they're upset."

Danny made a quick glance back at Angie. She was staring at her hands, her jaw twitching and the tears raining. He looked back at Mavin, staring the man down though he was inches taller.

" Keep your mouth shut, you got that? Don't say anything or I swear I'll send you through that mirror."

Mavin gave a quiet chuckle at that. " Yeah, sure. Good luck with that, Messer. You'd have it easier sending _her_ through the window." He jerked his chin toward Angie.

Danny held up his hand, half wanting to strangle Mavin. " Just keep your mouth shut."

" It's my interview Messer."

Danny didn't respond to this. There was no point to. Mavin would just argue it until he was blue in the face. Instead, Danny shook his head, turned, and moved back to Angie.

" Sorry about that," he said, still standing. " One more question, then you can go. Did Rachel mention anyone in particular who she seemed interested in? Or did she hint about the possibility of someone stopping by?"  
Angie looked up at Danny, the anger gone from her as though it had never been there. " No, I - I don't think so. She was talking about a whole bunch of guys, mostly to make fun of them. I don't remember what she said exactly."

Danny nodded. " All right then. Thank you for your time and I apologize if you were upset. If you can think of anything else… " Danny looked over his shoulder at Mavin. Mavin was staring at Danny with a blank demeanor. Danny looked away, then pulled a scrap of paper and a pen from his pocket. He sat down and began writing several names and numbers. Angie leaned in slightly to see.

" You can call anyone of these. Mine is on the top. My name is Danny Messer. The others are the people I work with. They'll help you out. You can talk to any of them."

He slid the paper to Angie.

" But, for some reason I would never be able to name, if someone named Mavin answers," Danny whispered, leaning in some so that she could hear. " Hang up. It'll save you a lot of grief."

Angie smiled gratefully and took the paper, folding it up and placing it in one of the pockets of her purse.

" Thanks," she said in a small voice. Danny sat back.

" You can go now."

The girl nodded, picking up her purse and hurrying from the room. Danny watched her go, then kept his eyes on the door even after it had closed. He could feel Mavin's stare on the back of his neck. Had the man the ability he would have burned a hole straight through Danny.

" What the hell…" Mavin began in a low, dangerous voice.

" Can it Mavin," Danny cut in, then stood and left the room before the detective could say anymore.

He was stopped short once he was out of the room by Mavin's hand landing heavily on his shoulder. Mavin then maneuvered his arm to drape it across Danny's shoulders as though they were old pals.

Mavin pointed at Angie's retreating form making her escape from the interrogation room.

" You see that piece of work, Messer? That's who we're trying to protect. Day in, day out. People like her, like her dead friend. People who, for some brainless reason, think they're immortal. People who think they can live forever, and because of that can do whatever they want. No disrespect to the dead, but that Rachel chick… I mean she was practically freakin' asking for it! Not in the literal sense, hell no. But, hey, when you wave a steak in front of a starving lion that lion's going to eat. They don't make our job any easier, Messer. In fact, while I was driving home last night, I passed three clubs that had lines extending for two blocks. Even with all this crap on the news about the Hangman, people are still playing at his hunting grounds. I mean, how freakin' stupid can they get? So excuse me if I don't get all sweet and sensitive like you. Someone's gotta pound it into these peoples' heads that - hey, guess what - you're not immortal!"

Mavin moved his hand again to give Danny a slap on the back so hard that it jolted his spine. Then Mavin sauntered off as though he had just one some major argument and was seeking out bragging rights.

Danny watched him go, speechless. Then leaned his back against the door, tilting his head to let it rest there and letting out a long, slow breath.

The thing was, cruel and shallow as Mavin's words had been, there was a small amount of truth to them. Rachel's seemingly harmless wild life had been the death of her. There were people being interviewed on the news, babbling their fear of the Hangman, and people walking the streets late at night, oblivious to the existence of serial killers in general.

It reminded Danny of a case he once worked long ago when a woman's house was broken into and several articles of clothing were taken; underwear for the most part. A stalker was suspected, and five men arrested, all confessing to being that stalker. Then it turned out that, according to neighbors, the woman had the bad habit of standing out on her balcony in either only underwear or nothing at all. Supposedly, it was because it was hot and she needed to cool off. Danny had been very tempted to yell at the woman himself, ask her what she had been thinking, especially since she kept asking why this was happening to her. It amazed him to no end how anyone could be that dense. She could just as easily been raped by any one of those men.

It was a strange sort of naiveté; the sacrificing of common sense in order to do whatever one wanted to do. Everybody did it, some more than others, some so extreme that one had to wonder if they had been dropped on the head as a child. That was what Mavin was talking about and, once again, much to Danny's chagrin, he had a point. It was also what the Hangman was sniffing out. The whole eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die deal. Then tomorrow comes and nobody's ready for it, because tomorrow was supposed to be an eternity away.

Mavin might have been a creep, but he knew in a small way what he was talking about.

NOTE

Laura-Trekkie - Alicia is kind of, sort of,me as well. Although I probably have fewer stuffed animals. And my walls are covered in feirce looking dragons rather than kittens and such. But I do like them action flicks:)


	14. Deviations

Note: I give up. Every time we are about to send the computer off, we need it. Procrastination has won out. Hopefully I'll be able to finish this story before we mail the computer to my brother. Hopefully, but I can't say for sure. I'll try though.

Ch. 13

Deviations

It wasn't a copycat. The words were turning into a mantra around the lab. Stella had matched the blood used for the snake to the blood of the male vic. The news spread like fire on dry grass and tensions increased, especially since Dr. Farrone had yet to determine the reasoning behind this altercation. The real fear lay in the belief that this change would become regular, and that a body would be rolled into the morgue every other day. The populace was nervous enough as it was with bodies appearing every three days without the weekly respite. A body a day would create uncontrollable pandemonium, with people packing heat in purses or pockets, shooting at shadows and anything else that moved.

Then two days came and went with not a body to show for it. Every team was sent back to the crime scenes, picking at them, practically tearing them apart, questioning and re-questioning those in the area. They questioned friends and families of the victims. They went to the clubs where the female vics last partied. They searched their homes, asked around at the places they had worked, covered every base they possibly could. Yet it might as well have been busy work for all that they were able to uncover, which was practically next to nothing.

Nearing the end of his shift on the third day, Danny's body felt like led. The late nights and early mornings were becoming a bad habit for him. Coupled with the running around to scenes, bars, and clubs, asking questions and looking for what wasn't there, he was amazed that he was still walking, let alone thinking.

He was not the only one to be suffering the effects of the intensified search. He entered the locker room to see Aiden just as she slammed her locker three times before the door finally closed.

" Stupid piece of crap," she mumbled. She then began jerking the strap of her purse, trying to get it untangled all while murmuring more swears under her breath. Danny would have quipped something; he wanted to, but couldn't think of anything to say. His heart wasn't in it, or more accurately his state of mind. He had to be in a _good_ mood to crack jokes.

He did stop to watch her out of weary curiosity to see if she could conquer the strap. When she finally did, flinging the strap over her shoulder with an exasperated sigh, she turned abruptly and gave Danny an impatient glare.

" What?" she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Again, Danny wanted to quip, but was too tired.

" Nothing," he replied, continuing on. He could hear Aiden release another sigh, this one slow and thoughtful.

" Sorry," she said.

Danny shrugged. " That's cool." Then stopped, suddenly at a loss. " Why'd I come in here?"

He turned questioningly to Aiden as though she would have the answer. Aiden let herself fall back against the lockers.

" To get your crap and go home? It's why most people come in here at night. Except the night shift since they're usually coming in to dump their stuff off."

Danny shook his head, lining his brow in consternation. " No, that's not it. Someone told me something… Oh yeah." He turned again and headed to his locker. He heard Aiden's footfalls following a few paces behind him.

" You're losing it, Messer," she said.

" Someone said I got some letter. They stuck it in my locker, kind of."

Sure enough, when he came to his locker he found an envelope sticking halfway out the bottom. Danny leaned his shoulder against the door as he yanked the letter out and looked it over. The return address was from some law office, A Micheals and Falson only a few blocks away.

Aiden came up beside Danny and clicked her tongue. " Uh-oh. What'd you do now, Messer?"

The muscles in Danny's back went taut. He ripped the seal of the envelope with his thumb and tugged the letter out, nearly ripping it.

" Hope it's not from one of the clubs," Aiden said. " I mean they may have _appeared_ pretty amiable, but I doubt they were actually happy about having cops crawling all over the place, spooking the customers, asking a butt-load of questions…"

Danny unfolded the letter and read it over out loud since Aiden would only nag him to read it for herself. " Dear Mr. Messer we request your presence at the return address of this establishment at the precise hour of 12:00 am, no sooner or later. Please comply or you may regret your course of inaction as it pertains to the well being of an ignorant individual who is, at the moment…" Danny straightened, " following the footsteps of misfortune. I am usually not so inclined to make known such unpleasentries, but certain measures must be taken to insure that all goes smoothly, yours truly… No One Important? What the hell?"

Aiden snatched the letter from Danny's hands. She lifted both her eyebrows as she read over the very last line, nearly laughing nervously out loud. " PS, do not, under any circumstances, be late. You're right, what the hell."

Danny took the letter back and turned it over onto the blank side. He then looked at the envelope. " Oh man I hope this is a joke. I mean it sounds like a joke." He stared at the letter for a minute. The letter was typed just like the envelope, but the vocabulary made him feel as though he had just been invited to some high-society banquet. He checked his watch. It was eleven forty right now, another night of over time. So if he were to go to this place, then now would be the time.

Yet everything about this gave him a sick feeling considering what happened last time a letter came. He looked at Aiden with a mixture of unease and confusion. " You think…?"

Aiden was staring at the letter as though it were a severed limb. She shook her head slowly from side to side. " I don't think I even want to go there. But, seriously, who around here would be that sick and that stupid to play a joke like this?" She flicked the corner of the letter as she said this.

Danny looked down at the letter, and realizing what it was he was holding gently set it and the envelope down on the bench in front of him.

Danny shook his head, his thoughts raging in turmoil as he became caught up in indecision. " It's gotta be another trap."

" Yeah?" Aiden replied. " Well what if it isn't? What if it's - you know - another killing?"

The sickness weighing in the pit of Danny's stomach increased until he had to clench his jaw to keep anything from coming up. Aiden had a point, but his own point was highly valid as well. He looked at Aiden helplessly.

" So… I should probably go, right? Just to make sure? I mean, none of the traps have actually killed anyone. I should play it safe."

Aiden winced apologetically. She was the picture of concern. " 'Fraid so. Just take back up. And I'll come with you."

Danny shook his head at this just as Aiden was about to turn around to grab her kit from her locker. " No. You deal with the letter. I'll go in, take who ever's around along for the ride. Should we tell Mac?"

Aiden opened her purse and pulled out a tissue. She then used it to lift the letter by the corners. " You go if you want to make it in time. I'll tell Mac."

Danny jerked his head down in an uneasy nod of assent, then hurried from the locker room. At the same time he pulled his cell and dialed Mavin's number. He was tempted to go with another detective, but knew Mavin would be riding his butt every chance he had if he wasn't called in on this.

After one ring, the older detective picked up. " Mavin here."

" Hey Mavin, it's Danny. Listen, I just got a letter and I think it's from our guy. He's asked me to be at this address at twelve exactly." Danny then read off the address.

" All right, Messer," Mavin said. " I can be there in thirty. Don't do anything until I arrive."

Danny checked his watch. It was now eleven forty-four. " Give me a break, Mavin. I'll do what I have to if it comes down to it," Danny curtly replied, then cut the connection before Mavin could say anything more.

There were plenty of officers around, and Danny went through five before he found two that were able to come with him. The sick feeling grew as he led them from the building. He wanted to give Mac the heads up, ask him how he should proceed, but time was too short, especially if a life was involved.

It took them fifteen minutes to arrive at the place. The law office was just one part of a larger complex on a corner street. And as expected, there was a sign on the front telling of the office's relocation due to renovations.

The older of the two uniforms, officer Bernard, tried the door and found it unlocked. He cast the beam of his light on the lock and leaned in close. " Scratches. It's been picked."

They went inside, heading right to a set of stairs winding upward. The offices were on the third floor at the far end of the building through a wide corridor. The corridor ended at a large room with a circular front desk with two narrow corridors branching off left and right behind it. Danny headed to the halls, looking down each. All the doors were open except for the one at the very end of the hall on the left.

Danny checked his watch. It was twelve o'two. He and the officers hurried toward the room.

" Hope we got the right place," the younger of the two said under his breath. Bernard reached the door first and placed his ear against it. His gray-blue eyes went suddenly wide.

" I hear something. Son of a…! I think someone's in there." He grabbed the knob, rattling and yanking it hard, but it was locked.

Danny could almost hear the noise too. It sounded like a garbled high-pitched mumbling, like someone sobbing but from a distance and behind layers of walls.

" Stand back," the older cop said. Danny and the younger officer complied. Then a thought struck Danny quick as lightening. Why would he be brought here if someone were still alive or around? What new game was this? And with that thought, Danny's heart slammed in his chest with alarm.

" Wait…!" he cried, but he was too late. The officer kicked at the door. It flew inward. At the same time, a high-pitched squeal of terror sounded, and Danny saw a form fall from the mantle of a fireplace. It jerked to a stop to hang inches from the floor and writhe in convulsions, kicking and struggling like a fish on a line.

" No!" Danny cried out, dropping his kit and camera and pushing past the cop. He did not think, simply act. He practically dove beneath the figure's legs then stood with the person now sitting on his shoulders like a large child. The person began falling backwards, but was caught by the two officers as they lifted the form up enough to keep the noose slack.

Still the figure jerked and kicked, gasping and choking as the heels and calves slammed into Danny's ribs and chest to reawaken old pains.

" Cut're down!" he yelled. He did not see what one of the officer's used, but could hear the sawing. Then the figure's weight increased and Danny knelt to slowly lower the form onto the floor, letting the suddenly limp legs slide from off his shoulders. He immediately doubled over, but ignored the burning in his chest as he turned and moved toward the form's head. One of the officers switched on the room's light.

It was a young woman, still writhing and sucking in air in rasping, choking gasps. Danny pulled the white nylon rope away from the woman's slit-free neck. Still acting on instinct based on the most recent of the killings, he took her bound wrists and lifted them up, holding tight below the slashes bleeding mercilessly. Blood that had been dripping down her fingers now traced red lines down her pale arms and over Danny's fingers.

" Call an ambulance!" Danny shouted.

" On it," said the younger officer, already speaking into his radio.

" I'll get something to stop the bleeding," Bernard said. " Anders, clear the place."

The younger officer, Anders, nodded as he continued to relay directions. Bernard hurried from the room.

The woman's blood was now covering Danny's hands, trickling down onto his own arms. He squeezed tighter until he could feel the woman's faint pulse struggling to get blood to her hands. The woman's breath continued to rasp, but she had managed to finally stabilize her own breathing enough to no longer be writhing.

" Ma'am, can you hear me?" Danny said. His own rapidly beating heart made a part of his mind believe that the woman's pulse was dangerously slow. Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't, but it was still causing his worry to escalate too fast for him to handle.

" Ma'am, if you can hear me open your eyes, just a little. Come on, I need to know if you can hear me."

The woman's eyes twitched and opened a hairline crack. Danny let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding, then leaned in closer so the woman could see him better.

" Listen, my name is Danny Messer. I'm with the NYPD Crime Lab. I need you to stay with me, okay? Everything's going to be okay. An ambulance is coming as we speak."

The woman's head moved down in a nod. She heard as well as understood. There was no panic in her eyes, but then again she was barely conscious and probably thought this all some bad dream she couldn't wake up from.

Bernard returned a minute later carrying a plastic blue first-aid kit. He snapped it open and took out packages of gauze and rolled gauze strips. He and Danny then set about removing the bonds and bandaging the woman's wrists tight, keeping them elevated. All the while the woman remained in her semi-conscious state, her partially closed eyes darting here and there, visible by the light glinting off them. Danny was amazed, and kept encouraging her to keep her eyes open. He talked to her, telling her in as soothing of words as he could that she would be all right. He brushed back the strands of her short, amber-colored hair plastered to her face by a thick sheen of sweat, not so much out of comfort but to remove them from her eyes so that she could see better.

Suddenly, her eyes flickered and rolled back into her head. But Danny could still feel her weakened pulse as he held to her wrists. She had passed out, but Danny felt deep inside that she would be fine. The bleeding had begun to lessen with the pulse continuing the same slow but steady rhythm. Calling this woman strong would have been an understatement. She seemed to be holding out in a way Danny thought impossible.

The ambulance arrived in minutes though it felt like hours. Danny did not release the girl's wrist until a paramedic had knelt beside her and he was able to hand them off. He then pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly when it aggravated his chest. The woman had a vicious kick.

Danny stepped back to let the paramedics work and took his first good look at the room. It was large, probably meant for conferences and the like. Turning to the fireplace he looked it over. It was actually a glorified heater, meant to look like a fireplace but with a screen instead of a flu. In front of the screen was a metal bucket flecked with several fat drops of blood.

Danny stared at it, hardly believing that it was right there in front of him, the thing used to collect the blood. They must have arrived minutes after the woman's wrists were slashed. Danny then looked up at the panel-less ceiling. The white nylon rope hung like a severed snake from a girder. Considering snakes, he passed he gaze about the room until his sights finally landed on the two-headed serpent slapped on the wall behind him. Blood still dripped from it, oozing to the floor as though the thing were melting.

The paramedics had moved the woman onto a stretcher and were now carrying her out of the room with Bernard following as escort from the building. Danny moved to the door just as the paramedics left. He studied the inside knob and found a piece of clear fishing wire tied there. Danny pulled out some latex gloves, snapped them on, then carefully lifted the thread to follow it back to the noose still connected to it. By kicking the door open, the thread had tightened and pulled the fading woman, most likely already on the verge of falling from blood-loss, off the fireplace mantle.

This didn't make a lick of sense to Danny, and the sick feeling remained in the pit of his stomach. Something was definitely messed up here. The woman would have fallen on her own eventually, so there was not much point in the string. But the killer had wanted them here, at this precise time. He wanted the girl found, near dead but still alive. Of course the question was why, but Danny could not begin to fathom any reasons for it, except to say that the killer was simply trying something new. Throwing the cops a bone, as it were, to keep their hopes up so that they could be crushed later.

" I hear you're the big hero here, Messer."

Danny's head shot up at the sound of Mavin's voice. The taller man's form nearly filled the doorway. He was wearing his overcoat and had his hands hidden in the huge pockets. He was staring down out Danny, shaking his head as though disappointed in the younger man.

Danny smirked, stifling a laugh. He looked down at the noosed nylon. He wanted to pick it up, but needed a picture first. " You jealous, Mavin?" He stood and headed to the door, but stopped short when Mavin refused to move.

" I told you to wait for me, Messer."

Danny's mountain of disbelief had now hit its peak, and his jaw went slack. " Oh, no way did you just say that. No freakin' way! Are you kidding me Mavin? She was gonna die! And you're telling me I should have waited!"

He shoved Mavin out of his way with all his strength, grabbing his camera from off the floor and checking it over to see that it had survived being dropped. He then took up his kit and went back into the room, shooting Mavin a look of utter disgust he now refused to hide.

" What the hell's the matter with you, huh?" Danny said, turning and stretching his arms out to either side. " What's you're problem? You told me to wait, I told you I'd do what I have to and I did. We heard someone in here, a uniform kicked down the door, and we ran in. You got a problem with that then you live with it."

He turned back and set his kit down by the bucket. He then began snapping pictures of it, the mantle, rope, noose, snake, and various splatterings of blood. All the while Mavin remained profoundly silent. Danny wanted to see that silence as a good thing, but found it to be getting on his nerves instead. He glanced at Mavin now and then as he took the pictures, but the detective was no longer looking at him. He was staring at the floor, burrowing an unseen hole into it with his eyes.

When Danny had taken the needed pictures, he set his camera on the other side of the bucket and opened his kit.

" What's happening?"

Danny barely heard the words. He turned his head, readying a nasty remark to Mavin, but the words stopped midway on his tongue. Mavin was shaking his head, and Danny saw something in the man's penetrating stare that he had yet to see until now; unease, uncertainty, confusion. The detective was at a loss.

Danny thought he had reached his shock quota for the day, but it had extended yet another notch. Mavin actually looked, for a brief heartbeat of a moment, weakened, vulnerable, older than his years. He actually looked less like a jerk and more like a regular human being.

And for an even briefer moment, Danny almost felt bad for the guy. Almost, but not quite.

" He's screwing with us, that's what's happening," Danny said. " You know, I think you really gotta stop taking this case so personal."

Mavin's gaze shifted onto Danny. The confusion and loss was gone, eclipsed by pure malice. " You're still freakin' clueless, Messer. You have no idea what's going down."

Danny turned his head back to his kit. " Yeah, Mavin, and you're just the resident expert on the whole thing. Face it, you know about as much as I do."

He was pulling out his brush and powder for fingerprinting, then heard the quickened, soft thump of footsteps coming up from behind him.

" What's going on?" said a calm, familiar voice.

Danny turned his head once again to see Mac now standing in the doorframe and Mavin only four steps away from Danny. Danny flicked his gaze from Mavin to Mac, then back to Mavin. Mavin looked ready to kill, and all his focus was directly on Danny. Then it vanished, and his visage became a blank, emotionless slate. He straightened with a jerk of his shoulders, and turned the corner of his mouth up in a smile.

" Don't overlook anything, Messer," Mavin said, then turned and strode quickly from the room. Mac stepped aside to let him pass, then moved in Danny's direction.

" Aiden told me the story," he said. " But I wanted to hear it from you. Need help?"

Danny looked up at Mac and nodded.

" You all right? You look a little pale. Not to mention that you don't seem to be holding that brush very steady."

Danny looked down at his hands in a kind of dazed regard. They were shaking slightly, and his chest was throbbing uncomfortably. He felt strangely light-headed, where only a second ago he had felt alert enough to take on three crime-scenes.

" Ah crap!" he said, setting his brush and powder down. His gloves were now stained red from the woman's blood smeared all over his hands.

" Adrenaline rushes will do that to you," Mac said. " They're good in the moment but they betray you in the end. Go wash your hands, give yourself a moment, come back and tell me what happened, then go home before you fall asleep on your feet. I'll handle the scene. It shouldn't take long anyway."

Danny nodded again gratefully, then pushed himself slowly to his feet. As he left the small corridor in search of a restroom he saw Mavin talking to Anders. Danny and Mavin exchanged looks, Danny's weary and Mavin's blank. Then Mavin looked away to continue his conversation. Danny had the feeling that whatever nerve he had plucked in Mavin, it had yet to be dismissed.

NOTE

No One Important is also the name of a twisted, rather ugly character in my twisted, rather disturbing story Dimensia. No particular reason for pointing that out except for the fun of it:)


	15. Digging

A/N: I love you people! I love comments! I love writing this story! I love the fact that Carmine Giovinozzo likes to paint (recent discovery) because art is awesome! I _don't _like this constant desire to have someone turn into a were-wolf. Hmmm… no. Cake and pictures for all!

I would also like to dedicate this chapter to my sister Jessica, whose name I kind of, sort of, in a way, borrowed.

Ch. 14

Digging

Danny found that if he stared at the blank white wall long enough, he would start to see things. Faint gray flashes for the most part as his optic senses became overwhelmed by the single blinding color. Staring hard, the gray flashes took on starburst patterns, and vague hints of color managed to work their way in to create his own personal fireworks show. He became entranced by it, and let his body grow strangely light and his mind wonderfully blank. For the first time in his life he was actually able to put up with the incessant waiting hospitals always put people through.

He was waiting for word on the only survivor of the Hangman killing spree. The woman's name, he had come to learn, was Jessi Donald. She was twenty-five, a bank teller, and that was all he knew so far. The rest would become known if and only if Jessi were up to it. Danny had no intentions of pushing her, not after what he had seen her go through the other night.

In truth, Danny did not mind the wait. In fact he was actually glad for it. The led weight that had plagued his body the other night still lingered in his bones, and there was a dull throb in his head that had refused to go away even after taking some aspirin. Bad sleep was to blame. He had been exhausted to the point of trembling and still his sleep and dreams had been a sporadic mess. The moment he closed his eyes he had relived Jessi's near death, then awoke, tried to go back to sleep, and dreamed a varying number of different visions that had him waking up what felt like every two minutes with a pounding heart. He did not even recall half the dreams, but knew that some had been too lame to have waken up to at all. On top of that, sometime during his poor excuse for sleep, his wrist flared up again. He had removed the splint the other morning since his wrist had stopped hurting and the plastic piece of crap was only getting in his way. Now it was strapped to him once again like a parasite.

So, all in all, last night had been hell in the worst kind of way, and the morning was making him pay for it. He had come to headquarters believing himself well rested, then learned that the table supposedly purchased by the killer had been - in fact - stolen from a warehouse downtown. It had been a gang-related crime, which would explain how the killer might have gotten his hands on it. The fake severed hand held a similar story, according to Stella.

So a bad night had bled over into a bad morning. That is until Dr. Farrone called him up to tell him about Jessi. Not only would the young woman make it, she was also already alert and coherent. Farrone asked Danny to come down, and so he did, and was now staring vacantly at the blank wall across from him.

Danny was sitting back and had his head resting against the wall. As he let shadows and colors dance before his unfocused vision he could feel his eyelids begin to weigh down and lower. So he let them, and his mind wandered into the realm of incoherent thought. There were no dreams, just mental ramblings of images bouncing about his brain, melding from one to the other with no rhyme or reason, just simple freedom from focused thinking. It was nice.

" Detective Messer?"

The voice penetrated into the realm like a bullet through glass. Danny started awake with a sharp inhalation of breath. He snapped his head around and looked up to see Dr. Farrone standing adjacent to him, holding a yellow notepad and appearing slightly perplexed.

" Sorry," she said sheepishly. " You all right?"

Danny pushed one hand up beneath his glasses to rub his tired eyes. " Yeah. Bad night."

This time, Farrone gave him a sheepish wince. " Oh, yeah. Um, anyway, I was finally able to speak with the doctor. He says that Jessi can talk, but we need to keep it short."

Danny nodded, then pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt. He followed Farrone three rooms down the hall and through a door flanked by two uniforms. The colorless room contained three beds with the center one occupied by Jessi's still and supine form. She was hooked up to a heart monitor and various IVs, one of which had a solid stream of blood flowing into her stitched up and bandaged wrists. There was a hint of color returning to her pale cheeks, as well as dark bruising circling her throat like a bad collar. Standing on the left side of the bed was a nurse in pink scrubs, writing something down on a chart.

" You know," Danny began uncertainly. " You might've wanted to call in a female detective. Usually in situations like this - with the attacker being male and all - it's a bad idea to use a guy. Makes the vic uncomfortable."

" Well, I know the counter to that. You saved her life. I find people open up much easier when it's their saviors doing the asking."

Danny was still unsure. " You mean if they even remember the ones who saved them in the first place. She was pretty out of it last night."

They came up to the right hand side of the bed. The heart monitor beeped steadily like a timid drum, and for a moment became the only sound in the room.

Danny thoughtfully stared at the young woman for a minute. With her eyes closed and her face still pale, the fact that she was alive became difficult to comprehend. Her chest barely moved as she breathed. But she was alive, the heart monitor attested to that, and it amazed Danny. There always came a sense of joy in the knowledge of having saved someone. Jessi was not the first life Danny had saved, of course, but the feeling never diminished each time around.

Farrone nudged him in the side. " Talk to her," she whispered. Danny, in truth, had been waiting for Farrone to take the lead since she had been the one to call him in. But asking the question was his department.

Danny cleared his throat nervously. Jessi looked so much at peace being asleep that it felt rude to have to wake her.

" Um, Miss Donald?" he said.

Jessi's eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. She turned her dark brown eyes up in Danny's direction.

" Hey," Danny said next. " My name's Danny Messer, I'm with the NYPD crime lab… I don't know if you remember me…"

Jessi smiled and moved her head ever so slightly up and down. Danny blinked in surprise.

" Oh. Well that's good to know, I guess. You did a good job, hanging on like that. Truth to tell I've never seen anything like it."

Jessi's smile broadened. She said something, but her voice was so faint that it could not be heard above the monitor.

" What was that?" Danny asked, pulling up a plastic chair to sit at Jessi's head and hear better.

" Mom says I'm stubborn," she whispered lightly in a rasping voice.

Danny grinned. " It's a good trait to have, I don't care what anybody says. Listen, I know it must be hard for you to talk and you're probably tired, but I need to ask you a few questions. It shouldn't take long. General stuff. You up to it? We don't have to do this now if you don't want."

Jessi nodded again. " Okay."

Anita pulled out a pen and flipped her notepad over. Danny glanced over at her, then back at Jessi. " This is Dr. Farrone, by the way. She's just here to take notes… obviously. Okay, we'll start with the tough one first, just to get it out of the way. Did you ever get a good look at your attacker?"

Jessi shook her head slowly from side to side. " He…" she swallowed, " came up… from behind. Too dark."

" Okay. And I'm guessing he put something over your face, right? Like a rag or something?"

She nodded.

" And you never got the chance to see him?"

She nodded again.

" Do you think you could tell me about when you came to? Was it while he was taking you somewhere, or when you got there? We found you in an office building."

" Building."

" So you woke up after you arrived?"

She nodded.

" All right, this may be another hard one. Were you bound up already, or about to be?"

Jessi took a deep breath. " B-bound."

Danny gestured at his own neck. " Around here?"

She nodded.

Danny was loathed to ask his next question, but he plunged ahead with it all the same. " So - then - you knew, I mean you were aware, when he cut your wrists?"

Jessi squeezed her eyes shut tightly for a moment, and when she opened them Danny saw them flooding with ready to fall tears.

" Hey, Jessi, it's all right. It's over now, you're safe. Here, I'll ask an easier question. I'm assuming that, before you were taken, you were out on the town or something, right?"

Jessi blinked the tears back though one managed to escape and slide down her cheek. She nodded.

" Going to clubs?"

" Dance clubs. Went to three. I like to dance."

" Were you with friends?"

She nodded. " Wanted to go home early. Feet hurt."

" I'd imagine that'd be the case if you were dancing most of the night. All right, I think we got enough. I really appreciate this. We'll let you get back to resting. I'm going to leave you my and Dr. Farrone's number in case you think of anything else…"

As he was about to reach into his pocket for a card, Jessi's hand shot out to wrap her fingers tightly around his wrist. Her brow wrinkled in a look of deep consternation as though she was trying to remember something or puzzle something out.

" He came back."

" What?" Danny said, his hand frozen in mid-movement.

Jessi swallowed. " He - he came back. I was… up high. I was… trying not to move. Felt dizzy, tired. He left. He came back, in minutes. Didn't see him, just an… outline." She swallowed and cleared her throat. " Tied something to the rope on my neck. Tied it to Door. I - I saw that much. Didn't see his face. He said something. He said, be patient. Told me to be patient. Said - something was all wrong. Sounded angry." Fear clouded over her widening eyes. " Really angry." Tears welled up once again. " Kept cursing…"

She was squeezing Danny's wrist painfully. Ignoring the pain, Danny managed to maneuver his wrist free so that Jessi gripped his hand instead. " Hey, Jessi, it's okay. It doesn't matter anymore. If he's going to be mad at anyone it's going to be the cops. You're safe. We've got police outside this door and everything."

Jessi closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself, then nodded once again. The death grip on Danny's hand lessened, and he carefully moved the hand back onto the bed and released it.

" We'll let you get back to sleep," he said, standing. " We'll leave the numbers with the nurse."  
Jessi's hand shot out again, and again took hold of Danny's arm. But the grip was light, almost non-existent. Her eyes still brimmed with water, and another tear escaped. But there was no fear or pain in her eyes. Just profound, overwhelming gratitude that stunned Danny.

" Thank you," Jessi mouthed.

Once again, Danny maneuvered from her grip to take her hand. He squeezed it reassuringly and smiled at Jessi. " No problem."

He then released her hand, and reached for his wallet to pull out a card with his number on it. He and Anita handed their perspective cards to the nurse, then headed out the room and back down the hall.

" Good thing Mavin wasn't here," Danny said, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. " I think he would have had her bawling 'til she was dehydrated."

" Wouldn't be the first time, or so I heard," Anita replied, sticking her notepad back into her black purse. They headed to the elevators and entered the one already arrived and open. Once inside, Danny leaned with his back against the wall and looked over at Farrone.

" So, what - exactly - is going down with this guy? Why the shift?"

Anita tilted her head back and sighed. " Oh, ain't that the million dollar question." She lowered her head back down, then rolled her neck a few times until it popped. " I can only give you my thoughts on the matter, but personally they just don't feel right to me. I'm sticking with the multi-personality MO." She sighed, pausing in such deep thought that Danny was certain she was going to stare a hole right through the wall. " I'm _thiiinkiiing…_ Okay, from what Jessi just told me, about him sounding angry… and taking into consideration the Hangman told you what was going to happen…."

She paused and began chewing her lower lip. The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors opened onto the busy first floor with the half-circle front desk. The two stepped out, then headed for the sliding doors out into a cool but bright afternoon. Once outside, Anita stopped and turned to face Danny.

" I think it was punishment."

" Punishment?"

" Yes, punishment, for one of the alter personalities. I believe the recent death, the one that happened out of the established time consistency, was a fluke. It wasn't supposed to happen. These killings are like a competition, full of rules and everything. But, I'm guessing one of the egos got a little full of themselves and decided to pick things up, probably to show up the other personality. So, as punishment, a victim was not allowed to die, to make up for the altercation. As for causing Jessi to be pulled from the mantle when the door opened… that was probably done as a sign to let you know the game was still on and that nothing had changed. Or it could have been done for amusement. I mean if the guy can't kill then he hurts. So, being unable to kill the girl, he did what he could to hurt her. Both seem pretty likely to me."

" So," Danny said, " what you're saying is that our guy will go back to killing every two to three days?"

" I should think so. Unless another bout of rebellion surfaces. Or a day by day killing is preferred. The Hangman already dropped the whole waiting a week before killing again scenario. If the game starts to get boring for him, there's no saying what he might do to pick things up."

Danny glanced around to hide his frustration. " No evidence, no leads, no certainties. It's a wonder the guy even exists. You know, if you ask me, I'd say this is one big mass hallucination and it isn't really happening, " he said with unchecked sarcasm.

" I think Jessi would beg to differ."

The comment was like a slap in the face for Danny. " Good point."

Anita adjusted the strap on her purse higher up her shoulder, then shifted her weight onto her other foot. " Listen, my line of work has me dealing with a lot of sociopaths, and to me they're all the same. Basically, for them, they have nothing to lose. You can't guilt-trip them into anything, you can't threaten them to cooperate. The only thing you can do is try and outthink them, which means - usually - getting sucked into a nightmare. But even soul-less SOBs like the Hangman have a weakness. It's basically the same weakness we all have - pride. If you can get to their pride, get to their egos in some way, then you have them. It's not always easy to find, and sometimes they'll have you running in circles, making you think you have it until they laugh in your face. But if you keep at it, you'll eventually strike a nerve, which will eventually bring down their tower of self-righteousness."

" So where's this guy's ego at?" Danny asked. " In the game?"

Anita shrugged. " I'm not quite sure yet. It's not always found in what they do, or how they do it. Sometimes it lies deeper. They bury themselves in emotional nothingness, but things can be dug back up. It's usually not a pretty dig, but it's always worth it."

Danny glanced at his watch. It was well passed lunchtime now, but he wasn't that hungry to begin with. " Just don't dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of, right?"

Anita nodded. " Exactly."

NOTE

Ugh! I totally forgot about Danny's cast. Hopefully what I did in this chapter got things back on track. I'm always doing that, giving a character some object like a wizard staff or something then forgetting they have it. Oh well. Danny's wrist situation is based off of something that happened to me (thank you very much, PE class). I don't recall how long I was in that stupid plastic thing though, just that it was annoying. Danny seems the type to remove removable casts before the doctor gives the okay.

For all you sick weirdoes (like me) who are waiting for something unfortold to happen to Danny because you like it when your favorite characters get hurt (oh, what's the matter with us! _slaps face_ bad us, bad!) Have patience. I always save the best for last, and build up to it until then. And what I have in store for Danny… (much evil laughter ensues as I rub my hands together wickedly.) I said too much already.

Sneak Preview - Oh crap!


	16. Ready, Aim

Ch. 15

Ready, Aim…

The peace of mind Danny had over Jessi's road to recovery was short lived the moment he walked into headquarters. Mavin was there, leaning back against the edge of the front desk with arms folded loosely over his chest. He was staring at the floor, but raised his head when Danny approached. Danny tensed, though nothing on Mavin's features warranted a reason to be nervous. The man appeared indifferent as usual, but after last night Danny found himself more wary of him than before. He could not say for certain if Mavin had advanced on him intending something malicious, or just to grab Danny's attention, but Danny's mindset was leaning toward the former more than the latter.

Danny stopped four paces from tall detective.

" What'd you need, Mavin?" he asked coolly.

" Heard you went to see the vic."

" Yeah, so? And her name's Jessi, by the way, if you care but I doubt you do. I talked to her. She didn't see the guy. End of story. No reason for a return visit if that's what you had in mind."

Mavin shook his head no.

" Then what? You pissed because I didn't tell you about it?"

" Maybe. But I got bigger fish to fry. You got a letter, which means a messenger stopped by, which means we need to do some asking around."

" Nobody saw who sent it, Mavin. It just came with the rest of the mail."

Mavin held up a finger. " It gets dumped with the regular mail, but it ain't the mailman who brings it. We need to go talk to Jake again."

Danny arched his brow. " Now? Don't you have a partner to be doing crap like that with?"

" She's taking other cases. The Hangman ain't the only killer out there. And no, not now. It turns out Jake's still working at that music store. We go in, his friends know my face, and give him time to slip off. He likes finding ways to aggravate me. The best time to get him is when he gets off work and heads home. So, I'll meet you back here at five thirty."

" Sure he'll be there? I thought you said he likes to get out, wander around, so he can pick up the letters."

" But he always goes home first to 'freshen up.' Just be here at five thirty, Messer."

With that said, Mavin pushed himself away from the front desk and wandered off to go hassle some other CSI. Danny didn't give him another glance as he moved off in search of Mac. He went to his office first, and found him sitting behind his desk, pouring over a sheet. Danny tapped lightly on the glass, and waited until Mac raised his head and gave Danny the okay nod.

" How'd it go with Jessi?" Mac asked when Danny entered.

" Good. She's doing fine. Didn't see our killer though."

" So nothing useable?"

Danny shook his head. " Not really. She did witness the guy entering twice, though. I mean I don't know how useful that could be, except to Farrone. She's still holding to the split-personality deal. Personally, I don't buy into the whole multi-personality thing. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I bet half the time someone claims to have a split ego they're using it for an insanity plea. But, hey, it's all we got and I don't fully doubt it either.

" Best not to doubt anything that's possible," Mac said.

" So how'd it go with you?" Danny asked. " Get anything?"

" Not particularly. Although the bucket has been used more than once. There were only a few drops when we found it, but tests confirmed there had been more blood at one time. He probably rinsed it out with water every time he was done with it."

Danny's frustration resurfaced, and he began rubbing the back of his suddenly knotting neck. " This guy's gotta be hairless and fleshless. How is it he's not leaving anything behind?"

" Easy. He doesn't _do_ anything that would leave evidence. He never rapes the victims so there's no semen, he probably wears gloves, long-sleeved clothes made of tightly woven fibers, and probably shaves his head or wear's a cap that holds his hair in place. He's into everything being neat and tidy, so I wouldn't put it past him if he cleaned up before he left."

" So not much else to do for this new scene then."

Mac gathered the papers spread on his desk into a stack and tapped them lightly together. " I haven't looked at the rope yet. But you can already bet there's nothing to find." He stuck the papers into a manila folder.

Danny shrugged. " It'll give me something to do. I have to meet up with Mavin at five-thirty."

Mac looked suddenly up at Danny. " Why?"

" To go squeeze some info out of Jake. Mavin wants to grab him after the guy gets off work." Danny caught the uncertainty in Mac's eyes, and became uneasy himself. " You think it'll end up being another blow out like last time?"

" I wouldn't be surprised. I'd just be careful. Interfere when you can but back off if you have to. I'll make sure you're not held accountable if anything happens."

" Thanks Mac." Danny then turned and left Mac's office to go take a look at the rope.

CSINY

Five-thirty came without warning, and Danny was experiencing a bad case of déjà vu as he rode with Mavin back to Jake's place.

" Even if he dropped the letter," Danny said, " you really think he's going to tell us anything about it? Or is this just an excuse to deck him again?"

" Sometimes he's got things to say if you know how to listen. The guy talks, he just goes for being cryptic. Thinks he's being clever. But if he wasn't the one who dropped the letter, then he opts for being more open, but only if he knows who the messenger was. Ratting them out gets them out of the way so that the Hangman is forced to rely on him. Jake may look and talk like trash, but even _I_ have to admit he has brains."

Danny was watching Mavin as he spoke. Temper-wise, the man was thus far remaining sober, laid back even, and wearing no defining expression. It was nice not to have to look at the man's smug smirk, but Danny had the feeling that Mavin was holding something back, brooding over something but hiding it well. Strangely enough, Danny also had the feeling that it had nothing to do with him. If it had, Mavin would have been verbally hounding him by now. The fact that he was acting all congenial was putting Danny on edge.

When they arrived at Jake's apartment, Mavin turned into an alley a building away to keep it out of sight, since - according to Mavin - the sight of his car tended to intimidate. If Jake saw it before they saw him he might get it in his head to make himself scarce for aggravation sake. But Danny couldn't help thinking 'actually it's your face, not the car.' The car was too close to being a jalopy to be intimidating.

" We've got ten minutes, give or take, before he comes waltzing in. We'll wait for him on the stoop," Mavin said.

They got out of the car into the lukewarm air of late afternoon where the sky was beginning to fade into gray-blue.

" Aren't you worried me might bolt?" Danny asked as they exited the alley and headed toward Jake's complex.

Mavin grinned. " Jake, run? Hell, one time he practically walked right into the station to deliver a letter personally. He knows we've got nothing on him. He's just an 'innocent bystander who got caught up in this whole mess against his will.' Little piece of crap. Besides, once spotted he usually goes along with things."

Mavin suddenly thrust his arm out against Danny's chest, halting him. " Oh, and Messer? Seriously this time, don't say a freakin' word. Jake's mine, got it?"

Danny stepped back and walked around Mavin's outstretched arm. About a thousand responses flooded his mind, but he felt the silent treatment more poignant. Besides, Danny knew better than to make promises he had no intentions of keeping.

" Messer?"

" Whatever, Mavin."

Danny stopped three steps from the stairs when he saw a figure approach from the opposite way. As the figure drew near, Danny squinted his eyes in confusion.

" Looks like Jake might be a little early," he said.

" What?" Mavin hurried forward to stand beside Danny, lifting his brow in surprise. " Huh. How about that." He nudged Danny in the side with his elbow. " Looks like the little puke's making it easy on us tonight."

As though Mavin's words carried adverse side effects, Jake looked up from staring at the sidewalk to spy the two. He slowed, also squinting, then stopped, his eyes now widening in alarm. Then, in a blink, he turned on his heels and bolted.

" So much for certainty," Danny said, then took off after Jake.

" I'll go this way," he heard Mavin call but did not waste the effort to see where the detective had vanished to.

Danny pounded the pavement, dashing with the speed he had once used during his baseball days in college, now utilized for moments like this. He was fast, plenty of people had said so, but Jake had been given a head start and mustered some good speed himself. They flew past five buildings, then turned left to pass five more. Danny found himself closing the distance, and could hear Jake's wheezing breath. Jake may have had the head start, but Danny had clean lungs.

Suddenly, Jake turned abruptly between another apartment and some shop selling meats. Danny nearly collided into the corner of the brick wall as he took the sharp turn, then slowed to a stop. The alley was long, branching off to the left and right before rejoining the main street. Danny listened to the silence broken only by his heavy breathing and the roaring rush of his blood in his ears. But he knew he should have been able to hear Jake's pounding feet reverberating off the walls. Jake had stopped running, which meant he was nearby.

Danny pulled his gun, but kept his arm lowered so that Jake wouldn't be able to jump out of hiding and knock it from his grip. He proceeded into the alley, treading softly so that his own footfalls couldn't echo. He kept close to the brown brick wall of the shop, brushing it with his shoulder. As he neared the intersections, he craned his neck to peer around the corner of the left-hand alley. He saw nothing, not even any trash bins.

He slowed even more when he came to the end of the wall. He leaned forward slightly, just enough for a quick peek around. The alley behind the shop extended a ways as well, but branching off into more intersections. The sight made his heart plummet, and he rolled his eyes in irritation.

" Hey Jake!" He called, his voice bouncing about sharply. " You down there? Come on, man, we just want to talk. You're not in trouble or anything. I promise I won't let Mavin beat you're A--."

There came no reply. Danny shrugged. It had been worth a try. He entered the alley, still moving slowly and close to the wall. This was Jake's neighborhood, Jake's territory, which meant that Jake was probably long gone by now. Either that or hiding in some vacant room or basement that neither Danny nor Mavin would be able to locate.

Danny glanced back over his shoulder, straining his ears for the slightest sound. He thought he heard two cats fighting, and the distant bark of a dog. There came a police siren so far away it was more like a banshee wail, fading off as quickly as it had come. Someone was playing music with a steady beat, but it faded as well. There was no such thing as absolute silence in New York. Yet what silence there was still had potency enough to keep Danny's heart hammering and sweat dripping down his back.

Danny slowed again when he came to the first intersection. He peered down one, then the other, both empty. There were too many ways Jake could have gone, too many choices to go with. Danny had lost him in a maze of alleys, and if Jake had brains as Mavin had said, he wouldn't be heading back to his place anytime soon. The best course of action would be to find Mavin and determine where Jake might have gone to hide out for a time.

Suddenly, a numbing chill shot down Danny's spine, and his back felt horribly exposed. He was about to turn for a look over his shoulder when he was grabbed by the collar of both his shirt and jacket. Something solid and cold pressed painfully into the back of his skull.

" Messer, right? Drop the gun, Messer."

Danny hesitated as his brain frantically flew through a list of possible ways to get out of this mess. Then Jake pulled back on Danny's collar, partially choking him, and pressed the gun even harder against his head.

" Drop it now!"

" You really gonna shoot me, Jake? That'll get your butt thrown in jail for the rest of your life, considering if you somehow don't get the death penalty first."

" Who says I have to kill you?" Jake lowered the gun and pressed it into the middle of Danny's backbone. " How'd you like to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair? Personally I'd take prison over that any day."

Cursing silently, Danny finally dropped the gun and raised his hands. " Why'd you run, Jake? We just wanted to ask you a few questions."

" Yeah, right, sure. A few questions. That's what they're waiting for. What they want to happen."

Jake's words made Danny furrow his brow in consternation. " They who?"

" Hey Jake!" Came Mavin's voice ricocheting off the walls. He stepped out from the right hand alley several yards away with his gun raised. Jake pulled Danny back, then away from the wall. Danny felt the pressure of the gun lift away from his back and saw the barrel of the automatic out of the corner of his eye when he turned his head slightly.

" Back off Mavin! Just back off!" Jake screamed, making Danny wince when it assaulted his ears.

Mavin never lowered his gun as he casually approached Danny and Jake. " Aw, come on, Jakey, why the hostility? Got tired of the game already? I just wanted to ask you something."

" Screw you Mavin! I'm done talking! I have nothing to say anymore! So just back off or I'll blow a hole through your partner."

Jake was backing up, taking Danny with him. Danny kept his eyes on Mavin. The detective's infuriating smirk had returned, but there was a coldness to his eyes that was making Danny more uneasy than he already was.

" He's not my partner, and you do have stuff to say. So just drop the gun, come with me, and let's get this over with."

" No! Go to hell, Mavin!"

" D----t, Jake! Stop being such a freakin' moron!"

Then Danny saw it. Mavin's arm tensed, going perfectly straight, and his finger began to tighten around the trigger. It was all a split second moment, but terror made it slow into minutes. Seeing what he saw, knowing what was to come, Danny reacted on nothing more than sheer panic. He threw himself back as one would when trying to get away. He knocked into Jake, and the two went down at exactly the same moment Mavin's gun went off. Danny felt it graze centimeters over his shoulder as he fell. He landed on top of Jake, then quickly rolled off and snatched Jake's gun from his hand before the man could catch his breath. Pushing to his feet, Danny pointed the gun at Jake's sprawled, disoriented form.

Mavin came running up from behind. He clapped Danny on the shoulder, causing him to flinch.

" Good move, Messer," he said, then went over to Jake, hauling him to his feet by the collar of his coat.

Danny watched Mavin, too dazed and shocked to speak. He forced his mind through the haze of terror that was making his heart pound and breath come fast, and eventually found his voice.

" What the hell, Mavin!" Danny said in a cracked voice. " You were gonna freakin' shoot me!"

Mavin pulled Jake's arms around, rambling off the Miranda Rights. When he finished, snapping cuffs onto Jake's wrists, he looked at Danny as though Danny had just lost it.

" What! No I wasn't. I was aiming for Jake's shoulder."

Danny, still trying to catch his breath, lowered Jake's gun. " He's the same height as me Mavin. To shoot him you had to shoot through me."

" Aw, come on, I had him in my sights. You're shorter than me so I was aiming downward. It would've grazed you, that's it."

Danny shook his head vehemently. " No. It would've hit my shoulder and gone through. It would've gone through bone, and if it didn't kill me by making bleed out, then it would've damaged my arm. It'd be useless."

Mavin chuckled. " Okay, now you're just being melodramatic. I'm a good shot, Messer. It would've grazed you, that's all. But, I gotta admit, what you pulled was better. Now we won't have to waste taxpayer dollars for Jake's medical bills. Ain't that right, Jakey?"

Jake shook his head. " Freak."

" What's that, Jakey?"

But Jake fell silent. Mavin looked back at Danny and shook his head.

" You're really up-tight, you know that Messer? Crap, I wouldn't shoot a fellow law enforcer."

" Not to kill, no. But I wouldn't put it past you to shoot through 'em as long as it wasn't a kill shot."

Mavin pushed Jake around, facing away from Danny. " Relax, Messer. It would've grazed you, that's all, scouts honor and all that crap. But let me put it this way. I would've nicked you; Jakey here would have killed you. Lesser of two evils, Messer. Live with it."

Mavin then began pushing Jake back up the alley. Danny shoved Jake's gun into his pocket to bag it later, then retrieved his own gun. He stood there for a moment, staring at the weapon in his hands, feeling its weight. Mavin had been ready to shoot him. In fact, it was as though Danny hadn't even been in front of Jake to begin with. He had wanted to shoot Jake. He had wanted to shoot someone; Danny had seen it in his eyes.

That was it. Danny couldn't take this anymore. It was time to take Mac up on his offer.

NOTE

Sneaky preview! - So tired…


	17. A thousand Words

A/N: I rather liked this chapter.

Ch. 16

A Thousand Words

__

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Danny didn't have patience enough to even sit, so he stood and paced in small circles before Mac's unoccupied desk. He was staring at the floor in thought, but glanced up periodically to look out through the windows to see if Mac was coming.

Just about every fiber of Danny's being was urging him not to do this. But Danny knew that was just stubborn pride talking. Yes, Mavin had gotten to him, Mavin had won, and he shouldn't get away with it. But there was a smaller voice whispering at the back of Danny's mind, telling him that he was doing the right thing. Danny focused on that voice and strengthened its resolve as he replayed the scene at the alley over and over.

There was no way Mavin would have missed Danny and still hit Jake. Jake had been cowering behind Danny, making himself small. The only way to have hit the man was by getting the bullet through Danny first; a through and through - potentially deadly even if the shot was only taken in the shoulder.

It made Danny sick with disbelief. Mavin was such a cold hearted SOB that it shouldn't have surprised Danny that he would be capable of shooting through someone else to get what he wanted. But it did surprise Danny. In fact, it boggled his mind. Mavin was a cop, he knew better. Jake hadn't been dangerous enough for such action. He would have bolted as soon as he moved from Mavin's sights. The guy was a coward, not a killer even if he aided killers.

Mavin had wanted to shoot something.

" Weren't you already in here?"

Danny snapped his head up in alarm. Mac walked into his office, eyeing Danny questioningly.

" You all right?" Mac asked next as he moved around his desk. " Maybe you should sit down."

Danny nodded but remained standing. The desire to leave, to dismiss what had happened in a show of refusing to let Mavin irk him, was screaming in his brain. But between the screams came the sound of ringing shots.

Danny began massaging his hand, pressing his thumb into his palm until it hurt. Mac sat down behind his desk with the chair creaking under his weight.

" I think…" Danny began, but the words were already leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

" Danny, sit down, relax. You look ready to rip someone's throat out and I would very much like it if it wasn't me."

Danny dropped his hands to his side and went rigid. " I want a partner change, Mac."

Mac sat back in his chair and regarded Danny carefully. " What happened?"

" That's not important, Mac, I just need…"

" _What_ happened?"

Danny turned away for a moment and ran both his hands through his hair. This was difficult enough without going into detail. It made him feel like a coward, a failure, slinking off to go hide under a rock until the bad man finally left. It made him sick with rage, so much so that his head began to throb and the desire to walk out and say forget it tore at his mind.

" Danny, what happened?"

Danny turned back and slammed both his hands onto Mac's desk. " He tried to freakin' shoot me, Mac."

Mac scowled in alarm. " What?"

Danny straightened, running one hand through his hair this time and sighing.

" He didn't _try _to shoot me, but he was going to Mac. Jake got up behind me, grabbed me by the collar and used me as a shield. And there was _no way_ that Mavin was going to be able to hit him without that bullet going through me first. So I threw myself back, just as he fired. D--n it Mac I felt the freakin' thing go by me, right when I jumped back, right when I was falling. I saw where he had his gun pointed, the angle. Jake was too low to hit directly. Mavin wanted a clean shot but he had to get it through me first. He was _gonna shoot me!_"

Mac stood up and lifted his hands in a placating way. " Just calm down Danny. Right now it doesn't really matter. We'll put you with someone else, it's no big deal."

Danny ran his hands over his head again and resumed his short, tense pace. " It is a big deal, Mac. Mavin's gonna love this, he's gonna rub it in my face…"

" Danny, he's not out to get you. The man's a pain in the A-- to work with, that's all. The fact that you lasted this long should be considered a record."

Danny kept pacing. He couldn't stop. He felt too wired and his mind was lost in a haze of fury. He should have decked Mavin when he had the chance, back at the alley as they were getting into the car.

" You can't win every fight, Messer," Mac said. " And some fights aren't worth what it takes to win. Mavin isn't worth loosing your sanity over."

At this, Danny stopped and looked at Mac, the rage lifting enough for his brain to finally function properly. " He needs to be taken off this case. The guy's a wack-job. I swear he's losing it if he hasn't already."

" Not my call," Mac replied. " _Wack-job_ or not, he knows this case, and we need people who know it."

" If he'd shot me, would he have been taken off then?"

Mac shrugged. " Probably."

" Maybe I should've let him."

Mac grinned. " I don't think it would have been worth it, Danny. Listen, I'll get you assigned with another detective, or maybe just put you with Flack and Aiden. In the meantime - to change the subject - what's the plan for Jake? Interrogation?"

Danny shook his head. " Naw. The guy kept asking for a lawyer the entire ride back. Mavin didn't want to deal with it so he's leaving it for tomorrow. Thinks that Jacob might be more out-going if he spends a night in jail."

" Whatever you do, I want Farrone listening in. Let her ask some questions too."

Danny nodded, removing his glasses and digging the heel of his hand into one eye. " Might not be a smart move to have me, Mavin, and Jake in the same room."

Mac grinned again. " We'll keep watch. We'll also worry about it tomorrow. For now you need to go home and turn in early. No offense, Danny, but you're starting to look like the walking dead."

Danny placed his glasses back on. " Funny, I _feel_ like the walking dead. I'll see you tomorrow then."

" Rested, I hope."

Danny left Mac's office, not in any sort of a better mood, but far less angry than before. He was too tired to care much about anything at the moment. In fact he felt as though everything that had happened the past few days had now accumulated and was trying to beat him down to nothing. He ached everywhere, and the throbbing in his head had escalated into a skull-cracking pound.

He went into the locker room, grabbed his stuff, threw on his coat, and began heading toward the door when Aiden approached going the other way.

" Wow, is that Danny Messer who's leaving before midnight? I guess that means hell's finally frozen over."

Danny grinned. Aiden turned on her heels and began walking alongside him. " What, no smart comeback, Messer? Wow, you must be really out of it."

Danny tilted his aching head back. " Lay off, Burn. I'm so tired I might end up sleep-driving home."

Aiden patted his back. " Aw, _pobre_ Danny. Just don't kill anyone along the way."

Both Danny and Aiden stepped through the doors into the cold night air. Danny shivered and removed his glasses that had begun to fog up.

" You, know," Aiden said as they casually made their way down the steps, " We've been riding this case non-stop and all we got to show for it is a bunch of crap you can find at any garage sale, plus a growing pile of bodies. There's really no point in staying over time."

" Then why're you still here?"

Aiden shrugged. " Guess you're rubbing off on me, Messer. I can't seem to get myself to stop looking for _something_."

Danny smiled. " You calling me a workaholic, Burn?"

" No, I'm calling you obsessive, which wouldn't be the first time."

When Danny didn't respond, Aiden leaned forward slightly to get a better look at his face.

" Dang, Danny, you look like crap. You okay?"

Danny dropped his head with a frustrated sigh. " People need to stop asking me that."

" Stop looking like crap and we will."

Danny chuckled, and Aiden smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Messer, hopefully in better condition." She stopped on the last step and turned to head back inside, only to pause.

" Uh-oh. Danny, whatever you do, don't turn around, just keep walking."

" Hey Messer!"

The sound of Mavin's voice ripped through Danny's nerves like a thousand needles. He knew he should just keep walking, but he didn't. He gave in to the defensive side of himself, too worn out to fight it any more. Aiden glared at him, shaking her head in a silent but firm no.

" What?" Danny snapped.

" What'd you say?" Mavin replied. He was standing before the doors, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

" To who?"

" To Taylor, Messer. What did you tell him?"

Danny rubbed both his eyes with one hand. " I think you already know the answer to that, Mavin. But I wouldn't worry about it." Danny looked up at Mavin, glaring. " Not like there's any proof. It's not like you're gonna get fired for it."

When Mavin didn't reply, Danny turned to head off.

" Messer. Hey Messer! Don't go walkin' off just yet. Turn around, I got something to say."

Again, Danny knew he shouldn't, but since he wouldn't have to be working with the detective anymore he thought there would be no harm in it.

" What Mavin! You got something to say then spit it."

Mavin's lips curled in a sneer of pure contempt. " If what you told Mac somehow ends up getting me fired after all, I swear I'll break that skinny neck of yours. You got that? I ain't going down just 'cause you're so freakin' paranoid all the time." Mavin shook his head in disgust and mumbled under his breath, " Gang-banger piece of crap."

The last thread of self-control Danny had fought so hard to maintain finally broke.

" Mavin, you stupid son of a…!" he advanced, but before he could even set foot on the first step Aiden blocked his way, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him back.

" Danny, no!"

Danny threw up his arms, trying to move forward but being shoved back. " What the hell's your problem, man!"

" Aw, come on Messer, lighten up. It was just a joke…"

" You're a freakin' psycho, Mavin! You got something against me then you come do something about it and stop jerkin' me around…!"

" You're the one with the problem, Messer…"

" Why you always up in my face…?"

" 'Cause you deserve it! You're nothin' but a punk kid who doesn't know crap…!"

" You wanna come down here and say that…!"

Their shouting match was drawing a crowd of cops and CSIs. Danny kept trying to maneuver around Aiden, but Aiden moved fast and was soon aided by a uniformed cop in holding Danny back. Another detective placed a hand on Mavin's shoulder to restrain him from taking a step. Their shouts increased until the words could no longer be understood, and Aiden had to scream to be heard.

" Danny! Back off, he isn't worth getting your butt fired over!"

Aiden and the uniform practically dragged Danny away, and the detective and two CSIs began pulling Mavin toward the building. Finally, Mavin stopped his string of swears, jerked free of the restraining hands, and twitched his shoulders to straighten his coat. He pasted on his infuriating smirk of self-grandiose, and the rage it caused in Danny made his blood boil.

" I'm _shocked_ you still work here, Messer," Mavin spat. " You shouldn't have even been allowed to walk through these doors to begin with."

Danny tried once more to dart at Mavin, but both Aiden and the cop prevented it, so he settled on flipping Mavin the bird instead. Mavin laughed.

" Real mature, kid."

" Go to hell!"

Mavin kept up his caustic laughter until he was finally escorted into the building. Aiden and the uniform kept pushing Danny back until he stepped away from them without trying to get around them.

" Crap, Danny!" Aiden said breathlessly. She shoved Danny in the chest. " What the hell is your problem? You wanna get fired! 'Cause that's what's gonna happen if Mac finds out about this."

Panting, his skull feeling as though it was ready to explode, Danny wiped his mouth and began walking away. Aiden grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat, forcing him to turn around.

" I think you need to go back in there and ask Mac to get you reassigned to a new partner."

" I already did."

Aiden tossed her hair back sharply. " Then go home! You're exhausted, you're not thinking straight. Leave before you shoot someone."

Still panting, Danny finally turned and walked away, clenching his hands to stop them from shaking, and wishing Mavin were in front of him so he could cave the guy's face in.

CSINY

The argument had given Danny the adrenaline he needed to get home without causing a car wreck, but the moment he walked through his door it all drained away. His body felt heavy, but his head light as though he was walking through a dream. He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter, wincing at the sound, then pulled off his coat and draped it over the back of his couch.

Way too tired to cook, he pulled out a clear glass bowl from the top middle cupboard and a box of cereal from a bottom cupboard. He then pulled the milk from the fridge, slamming it closed, and poured both milk and cereal into the bowl. He did not even sit as he ate and downed his dinner fast before he fell asleep on his feet. Once done he dumped the bowl in the sink, popped two aspirin, then pulled his wallet from his pocket and set it down beside his keys as he headed for the bathroom.

Leaning with both hands on the sink, Danny took a good look at himself for the first time that day. Aiden was right, he looked like crap. His eyes were bloodshot and shadowed, and his face pale. He was shaking, but knew that it wasn't because of weariness. Anger had a way of dissipating slowly from his system, and tended to leave lingering traces behind that reignited at the slightest hassle. Being tired made it slip away even slower.

Danny let out a breath. " Bedtime, Messer," he said to himself, straightening and lightly the slapping the mirror as he did so as though trying to chase the image away. Being a chilled night, he dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved gray shirt. He went around the house making sure all the windows were shut, ending at his room. He removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand by the bed, shut off the light, and slipped heavily beneath the covers, falling back against his pillow.

It was an indescribable pleasure at being able to lie down, melting into something soft and relieving his bones and muscles of having to support him. The aches in his body and head drifted away, and soon he did not feel anything. Coherent thought was replaced by dreams that came and went quickly.

He saw Mavin on the steps to the lab, pointing a gun at him, smirking that stupid smile of his.

" Just turn away Danny," Mac said, heading down the stairs past Mavin.

" He'll shoot me," Danny said, strangely calm.

He was pulled back by Aiden. " Danny, just ignore him and go already."

" Aiden, he'll kill me."

" Just go!"

So Danny turned, cringing, waiting for the searing pain of a bullet tearing through flesh and bone. Then he heard a scream and turned back. He was in a room that was dark say for a single light shining on a body hanging from a nylon rope. Acting almost instinctually, he moved toward the body to gather the evidence, but had forgotten his kit. He heard someone talking. Maybe it was Mac, or Stella, Flack or Aiden. He said something back but did not know what he said. He knelt, looking up at the down-turned face and the vacant eyes of Jessi, and went cold.

Danny jolted awake, lifting his head, trying to will the rest of his body to move so he did not have to look at the dead eyes that were supposed to be alive. He blinked bleary eyes and the dream-fog gradually cleared from his brain. He dropped his head back onto the pillow with a quiet groan. He lifted his hands to his face, kept them there for a moment, took a deep breath, then dropped his hands back onto the bed. It was going to be another one of those nights.

Strangely, the cold he had felt in the dream still lingered. Then he realized it wasn't a dream. A cold gust of air brushed against the side of his face, and he slowly sat up. The window on the right was open, and a light, frigid breeze was making the blinds twitch.

Danny stared at the window in dazed confusion. He could have sworn he closed them all. At least he thought he had.

He pulled himself from the warmth of the blankets and stumbled to the window, leaning on it to push it closed. It was the window next to the fire escape. It made him uneasy that of all the windows to forget to close it had to be this one. Having a window next to a fire escape had always troubled him. He had seen too many crimes where the perp had managed to break into an upper level apartment thanks to a fire escape.

Danny locked the window then stumbled back to his bed and dropped into it. The cold air was already vanishing, and his mind began to slip back into dreams. With any luck he wouldn't wake up until morning. But luck had yet to ever prove reliable.

CSINY

Danny walked into headquarters ache free. Thanks be to sheer exhaustion he had only woken up that one time last night and slept like a rock the rest of the evening. He would have been in a good mood had the prospect of having to see Mavin again not been sitting like an iron weight on his mind. But after this interview with Jake, hopefully, he would never have to see the man again let alone here him, and that was something to be content about.

He walked into the locker room and headed to his locker. He stopped short on seeing Aiden standing in front of it, staring at an envelope sticking out of the bottom of the locker. Suddenly, whatever high spirits Danny had shattered.

" Please tell me that's not what I think it is," he said, hurrying forward. Aiden, her arms folded in front of her chest, shrugged.

" I was waiting until you arrived before I found out." She then unfolded her arms and handed Danny a latex glove. " The honor's yours."

Danny took the glove and pulled it on. He carefully pulled the letter from the locker and read it over. The return address was the same as before; the law firm office where Jessi had almost died.

Danny stiffened. He and Aiden exchanged troubled looks.

" I think we should bring Mac in on this," Aiden said.

Danny nodded stiffly, swallowing back rising bilge. He turned the letter over and found it to be unsealed. " Let's just make sure we've got the time first. If that's what it is."

Opening it, Danny found no letter but a Polaroid picture. He pulled it out and stared at it. What he saw did not register to him, not at first, because his brain refused to let it, and for a moment he thought he was still lost in dreams.

" Who - who brought this in, Aiden?" he asked, and terror expanded in his chest, closing off his throat. The truth of it was pounding into his reality. His hand began to shake, and his breath stopped.

" What?" Aiden asked, trying to see it. She grabbed Danny's wrist to move his hand so she could look at the picture, then froze as her jaw slowly fell open.

" What the hell?" she breathed, wide eyed. " Danny?"

Danny wanted to vomit, to scream, to tear the picture into thousands of pieces. He was staring at a picture of himself; deep in peaceful sleep, with his head turned to one side. He could almost make out the faint blue vein running like a river along his neck. And pressed lightly against that vein, tilted slightly so it could be identified by the ones who saw it, was a butcher knife gripped in a black-gloved fist, ready to cut.

NOTE

Sneak Preview - Now here's a twist…

For those of you who want to know and do not, _pobre_ means poor. It is a term of endearment started by my brother - _pobre sita mihija_ (poor baby or something like that. I'm not sure if I got the spelling right.)


	18. Twisted

A/N: This chapter was a bit tricky. The problem lay not so much in how one would react to seeing a picture of themselves with a knife at their neck, but how Danny would react. The episode 'On the Job' was very helpful in figuring this aspect. Danny looked ready to puke about half the episode.

Ch. 17

Twisted

" Who brought this, Aiden?" Danny asked again in a cracked and tremulous voice. The expression on his pale face as he stared at the picture was one Aiden had never seen on him before, or thought she would ever see. It was naked horror, pure and unfathomable, like a visible representation of the shock slowly splintering his mentality.

He took a small backward step in an attempt to move, stumbled, then fell against the lockers behind him with a loud bang. He began sliding down the locker, his jaw slack, and his hand gripped the picture so tightly it shook.

" Danny?" Aiden said again. She was at a loss. She knew what she needed to do -to go get Mac - but could not follow through. " I didn't see anyone…"

She finally moved numbly over to him as he continued to slide down until he made contact with the bench. She placed her hand on his trembling arm, and when she did he stood so abruptly that she flinched back in surprise. Danny hurried from the locker room, and Aiden followed close on his heels.

" Danny, where're you going?" she asked nervously. Aiden may have enjoyed bragging to Danny about how well she knew him, but the truth was that the man could be all-out unpredictable at times. She had never seen him frightened before. Nervous, yes, but never this terrified.

Danny began looking wildly around in searching, turning, acting like a man who had no idea where he was. He headed to the front of HQ, to the desk, and slapped the envelope down so loud it caused the lady working the desk to jump.

" You know who sent this?" Danny asked in a tight and unsteady voice.

The young blonde woman shook her head stiffly, " S-sorry, Danny, I don't…"

But Danny moved on before she could finish. He began searching again in panicked urgency. He snagged the arm of a young brunette woman by the name of Adelle who was in charge of overseeing data entry personnel.

" Adelle, who handles the mail? Who passes it out?"

Adelle looked at Danny in bewilderment. " Uh, um, Chris, Chris Johnson, I think…"

" Is he here? Where is he?"

Danny's wild exigency was infecting the poor woman and she could hardly get a word out.

" He… I … I don't know… Why?"

Danny moved on, stopping those CSIs who worked the morning and evening hours along the way and holding the envelope up to them. He asked each of them, in an almost pleading tone of voice, if they had seen who dropped off the letter or shoved the letter into his locker. He made his way to the office with its sea of desks and moving bodies, loud with ringing phones and voices. Aiden followed him though she did not know why. She needed to stop him, to try and calm him, but he was moving too fast. She felt sick with worry, but it was probably nothing compared to what Danny was going through.

" Jansen, I saw you coming out of the locker room this morning. You see someone stick a letter in my locker?" He asked the tall, brawny detective. Jansen shook his head.

" Sorry, man…"

Danny moved on, going from person to person, asking with more fervor as he received one negative reply after another. He eventually came to Chris, but the kid said he only placed letters on desks, not in lockers.

Aiden, practically running to keep up, was at last able to place her hand on his shoulder. " Danny, calm down. Let's find Mac…"

But Danny wasn't listening. He had become lost in both the search and his own terror, having given way to panic, asking anyone who came into range for him to grab. His actions weren't going unnoticed, and people walking by, sitting at desks, doing busy work, were slowing and pausing to watch the agitated CSI in concern.

" Did you see someone put this in my locker? Did anyone see someone put a letter into my locker…"

More No's, more shakes of the head. Danny's breath was coming fast, and he looked on the verge of wanting to tear everything around him apart.

" Did anyone see who dropped off this letter?" He asked, raising his voice. Danny then took a deep shuddering breath.

" _Who the hell sent me this letter_!" he screamed in rage. Now he had everyone's attention, and the noise level of the building dropped as it never had before, only to resume a second later, but more subdued and hesitant.

Aiden grabbed Danny's arm and forcefully guided him to the nearest empty chair. She gently shoved him into it, and he dropped without a fight, panting and shaking. For a moment, Aiden believed that Danny would start shedding tears. She had never seen him cry; yet even at this moment he had yet to do so.

" Danny, calm down," she whispered. Her eyes darted about, landing on those staring in their direction. She had never considered herself overly self-conscious, but suddenly felt, more than saw, every eye in the room glued to both her and Danny. It wasn't herself she was worried about, though. Danny didn't need this kind of attention that would later turn into rumor and spread like a virus. There was already enough talk going on behind his back. She had never heard any of it for herself - not directly - but she knew it was there by the way some people would glance at Danny askance or bring up his name in conversation. Curiosity made her want to listen in, but her respect for Danny made her turn a deaf ear or defend him when she could.

Danny still held the envelope in one hand and the picture in the other. He was staring at the picture again as though trying to figure it out, but the longer he looked the more confused he became.

" Danny, listen to me…" when he didn't look at her, Aiden snatched the picture from Danny's vice-tight grip, nearly ripping it. As though finally freed, Danny closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut.

" Danny, you need to chill. Freakin' out isn't going to get you answers, you know that. If - if whoever took this wanted you dead, then you'd be dead, but you're not. It must just be some kind of warning or something. So take a deep breath and… I don't know… focus. Get your head together."

Danny dropped his head onto his upraised, tightly clasped fists.

" I think I'm gonna be sick," he whispered. Aiden quickly searched around and grabbed the nearest wastebasket, dragging it over in front of Danny. He didn't move to puke, but he was shaking bad. Aiden knelt to his right and began rubbing his shoulder, trying to be comforting. But her eyes kept wandering back to the picture, to the knife pressed against Danny's throat. She wanted to ask him how he had not felt that and woken up to it. That knife had to have been cold. She wanted to ask a lot of questions, but kept her tongue still and her voice silent. Besides, she recalled how exhausted he had looked the other day. Fit to sleep through anything. 

She looked at the picture again and shuddered. Had that been her, she would have been vomiting by now.

" Aiden?" said a familiar female voice. Aiden looked up to see Stella approaching. She slowed as she neared, looking from Aiden to Danny. " What's going on, I heard someone yelling and people were saying something about someone losing it."

" Where's Mac?" Aiden asked, still rubbing Danny's shoulder and along his arm.

" I'm pretty sure he's coming. I heard someone tell someone else to go get him. What's wrong? Danny?"

She placed her hand on his back, and her eyes widened. " Why's he shaking like that, what happened?"

Instead of answering, Aiden handed her the picture and she took it. Stella's jaw dropped and she moved her hand off Danny's back to cover her mouth.

Mac arrived in less than a minute later. " What happened?" He asked immediately as he approached and his gaze fell on Danny. Stella handed the picture over to him. Mac's usual no-nonsense composure wavered, something else Aiden had never seen before.

" Danny, what is this?"

" He doesn't know?" Aiden replied for him. " He found it in his locker, with the same return address as the last envelope," she gestured at the picture in Mac's hand, " and that was in there."

" Where's the envelope?" Mac asked.

Aiden looked at Danny's clenched hands but didn't see it. She looked down and found it by the wastebasket. She picked it up by the corner and handed it to Mac who took it using a Kleenex. Stella then snapped on some gloves and took both picture and envelope from Mac.

" I'll see what I can find," she said, and hurried off to the lab.

Mac dropped the tissue into the basket then lightly placed his hand on Danny's other shoulder. " Danny. Danny!"

Danny didn't respond. Mac looked up and around, and Aiden followed suit. People were still staring and whispering, with some trying to mill closer to listen in.

" Let's see if we can't get him someplace more private."

Aiden nodded and stood. " Come on, Danny, let's move. Too many people are lookin' at us funny and, personally, I don't like it."

It must have done the trick. Danny lowered his hands onto the arms of the chair and gradually pushed himself to his feet. But his eyes were distant and glassy, looking at nothing. He was reacting mechanically as he followed Mac and Aiden all the way to the break room. Mac commandeered it by telling the few people inside that some privacy was required. Once out, he shut the door as Aiden guided Danny to one of the chairs. As an after thought, she pulled one of the metal wastebaskets over to stand at the ready by his feet.

Danny had resumed keeping his head lowered on his upraised hands, but was now digging the heel of both hands into his eyes with his glasses raised on top of his head.

Mac pulled up chair on Danny's other side and sat down. " Danny? I know what you saw was a shock, but I need you to pull yourself together. We're going to do something about this…"

" He was in my apartment," Danny spat between clenched teeth. " And I didn't even know it. How do you not know something like that? How do you not feel…" he pulled away one hand and began rubbing the side of his neck almost hard enough to take the skin off. It gave Aiden the impression that he was trying to rub away the feel of the knife. Then, suddenly, he jerked forward and to the side, grabbing the wastebasket and issuing a choked, gurgling gag as he vomited.

Aiden jumped back in alarm. When Danny finished, he dropped the basket with a clang, but kept his head down, taking in long heaving breaths.

" Sorry," he said hoarsely between breaths.

" Sorry?" Aiden said a little taken back. " I'm surprised you held it in this long. I would've puked the moment I saw the picture."

Danny shook his head. " I didn't leave that window open. I knew I didn't. But I was too tired to care…" Danny finally raised himself up. His gaze was still distant, but in his eyes was something like fearful desperation. He lowered his hands that would not stop trembling and looked over at Mac.

" So - so what'd you think it means?" He took a deep breath, and it became apparent to Aiden that he was finally calming down, at least enough to be rational. " I mean - how worried should I be here? Is this just a game, a joke or… something else we don't even know about yet?"

Mac shook his head. " I don't know. But you can't go home, not to stay."

At this, Danny sat up straighter. " So, what, I have to stay in some motel until we finally catch this guy? Mac, at the rate we're going I might as well move."

" Maybe you should," Mac replied seriously. " This guy knows where you live. Granted, with the last case nothing like this has happened. But we did have a cop get killed. You don't have much of a choice right now."

Danny looked away to stare at the table in front of him. Aiden thought she caught a glimmer of anger within the fear, but it was fleeting. He finally nodded his head in assent.

Mac looked over at Aiden. " I want you and Flack to go to Danny's place and look it over. See what else the Hangman might have left behind."

Aiden nodded. Mac then looked back at Danny. " Danny, I'm going to handle Jake. I know the interview was supposed to be yours but - and don't take this the wrong way - I highly doubt you're up for it, especially having to deal with Mavin on the side. You need something to do then go help Stella. If not then stay here, in the building. Do _not go anywhere_. We may have to set you up with protection."

Danny's expression darkened. He was not the kind of guy who would take well to being baby-sat. Aiden knew since she shared the sentiment. But he nodded, though stiffly.

Mac clasped his shoulder, then stood. " I'll talk to Jake, see what I can get from him. If we learn anything you'll be the first to know."

Danny nodded again, then Mac left. Aiden watched her boss go then looked back at Danny. 

" You gonna be okay?"

Danny's hand had strayed back to his neck, massaging the area where the knife had touched. He shrugged. " I don't know."

" Don't act tough, Messer, whatever you do. If anyone has a right to be freaked, it's you."

" You tellin' me I should be crying or something?"

" No, but feel free to puke all you want."

Aiden grinned, but Danny did not even so much as glance her way and she felt an onrush of guilt at trying to joke. She placed her hand on his shoulder that was rock solid with tension, and felt the periodic tremors that still coursed through him. She could imagine, and in imagining almost hear, his heart beating a mile a second.

" It's gonna be all right, Danny," she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

Danny just nodded in reply, still rubbing at his neck.

CSINY

Mac was worried, but not the usual worry that was more simplistic, which most would call concern. This was a more heightened worry that was verging on fear. The Hangman was getting strangely creative, even brave, going into the home of a CSI like that. If anyone ever held it against Danny for becoming sick and panicked as he had, then they would be an idiot. The sadistic twist of it was making Mac's own stomach knot up. The guy was taunting them, shredding their perceptions of the entire case, and succeeding flawlessly.

As Mac stared through the two-way at Jake and the dark-haired young man brought in to be his lawyer, he told Farrone standing across from him every detail concerning the picture. The picture had been so clear, the flash lightning bright, and yet Danny had not woken up.

" Was he tired?" Farrone asked, leaning against the wall with folded arms. She was wearing a brown dress-suit today, with a tan silk scarf around her neck and her hair pulled back in a tail.

" Dead-tired."

" There you go then. I have these neighbors who fight non-stop, and one time I was so worn out I slept through another tirade plus police intervention that supposedly ended in someone getting punched. You'd be surprised what you can sleep through. So how's Danny handling it?"

Mac leaned his shoulder against the frame of the two way. " He threw-up."

Farrone nodded thoughtfully. " I would be more concerned if he didn't." She then dug two fingers through her hair to scratch her scalp. " I don't quite know what to make of it, though. My _immediate_ thought goes along with yours; that this is some kind of warning. Probably from another ego…" Anita scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.

" What?" Mac pressed.

" I don't know. I've dealt with multiple personality types before, and a lot of them have a way of tripping over themselves, especially if one ego doesn't like what the other is doing. It's _multiple_ personalities, meaning that there is usually more than two, even more than three. Sometimes, deep within, there's a good-guy who tries to make things right. Our guy is too perfect, too precise, and too trip-up free. But, then, maybe he has no good guy deep inside. That happens too."

" Should Danny be worried?"

Anita glanced at her feet, then looked up to flash a timorous smile at Mac. " If he isn't already, then yeah, he should be."

They fell silent for a moment to lose themselves in thought, and it was at that moment that Mavin finally arrived. He was walking fast but slowed on raising his eyes to find Mac in place of Danny.

" Where's Messer?" he asked with a look of surprise that screamed façade. " He forget about today?"

Mac made a glance at Farrone in a silent exchange of words telling her not to say anything about Danny and the picture. She gave a small nod in reply.

" Don't worry about Danny," Mac said. " I'm having him reassigned to another team."

Mavin's lips began to spread into a smirk, but he dropped the smile before it had yet to even form. " Oh, no way, man. Don't tell me you believed that little prick about me wantin' to shoot him."

The heat of anger shot up Mac's spine into his brain, causing his blood to pick up a quicker run. But Mac had a tight control over his emotions that made some people wonder if he had any emotions at all. He let enough of his anger show to let Mavin know he wasn't happy, but reigned in the rest to keep the situation the way he wanted it.

" Actually, I do believe him. But my line of work forces me to take the side of evidence, and there isn't any. _But_ - if I ever hear of something like this happening again, to anyone of my CSIs, or if I even hear you calling any them some kind of derogatory name, I will make it known to the right people and ensure that you're taken off this case. Even stripped of your badge."

Mavin's only reaction was a twitch of his jaw muscles and the cold glare of hatred in his eyes aimed directly at Mac. Mac met his gaze, then moved to the door of the interrogation room. The three entered, with Farrone staying back behind the two men until ready.

Jake's lawyer looked fresh out of law school, but his brown eyes held a sharp cunning to them that Mac spotted right away.

" My client wishes protection," the lawyer stated before Mac could even pull out a chair.

" What!" Mavin almost laughed. " You that scared of me, Jakey?"

Jake clenched his fists on the tabletop. " Not from you, you freak!"

The young lawyer placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. Mavin stepped forward as though making a move for Jake, but Mac thrust out his arm to stop him, pushing the detective back.

" Why?" Mac asked.

" There have been recent developments that have my client concerned."

Mac looked over at Jake and studied the man for a moment. He was tense, sitting stiffly and fidgeting constantly. His eyes also kept darting about yet stayed lowered as though trying to avoid all other presence in the room. Jake was scared; which was always a nice advantage to an interrogation.

Mac slowly sat down in one of the chairs, while Mavin remained standing.

" You know we can't do that without an exchange," Mac said. The young lawyer inclined his head.

" We know. My client is prepared to offer you information in return for protection."

" It's a deal if we're satisfied with the information. Is it useful?" Mac looked over at Jake. " Or are you just going to jerk us around?"

Jake began clenching and spreading his fingers to flex them. " From the progress I here you're making, I would say pretty d--m useful."

Mavin grinned. " What's the matter, Jake? Not the favorite anymore?"

Jake glared up at Mavin. " Yeah, Mavin, not the favorite."

At this point, Farrone walked forward into the light. " How do we know this isn't part of another trap setup?"

Jake's eyes flicked in her direction. " Because I wouldn't be here with a lawyer, asking you for help."

" What happened, Jake?" Mac asked next. Jake looked at him.

" I got this letter, no return address. But I already knew who it was from. I can sniff a letter out before it even comes. And you know what it said? Don't bother. You know what that means? Sit you're a-- where it is 'cause we don't want you anymore. Usually if I got a letter it told me where to go, where to find the delivery. You know what was on the letter I got? Blood, which means not only am I out of the game…" He fell silent, his eyes tightening, his hands clenching until the knuckles turned white.

" He don't like you no more," Mavin said with a small trace of glee. Jake's lip curled in a sneer of contempt and he looked away.

" What can you give us in exchange for providing protection?"

Jake did not look back. " What'd you want?"

" Location of the letter pick-ups," Mavin said.

" They varied. It was like a scavenger hunt. You find one note and it led you to the next that led you to the final one. Meant to keep you guys on your toes when you tried following me."

" How about the letters meant for you?" Mac asked.

" Burned 'em."

" You're really not helping us out here, Jake," said Mac. " What about the Hangman? You ever meet him personally?"

Jake began shaking his head slowly from side to side. " I'm gonna get killed for this. They know, man. They always know. I would've been fine if this SOB," he jerked his head at Mavin, " hadn't of come stickin' his nose back into things. They're gonna kill me for this."

" You're certain of this?" Mac asked. Jake just snorted out a derisive laugh.

" Wait a minute!" Farrone said suddenly, moving a slow step forward. " Go back here. You said _they_."

Jake did not reply, just kept his face turned away. Mavin slapped the table so hard and loud that Jake, the lawyer, and Farrone all jumped. " Wake up, Jakey! The lady's making an inquiry."

Jake turned abruptly back around. " Yeah, _they_. They, as in them, as in the hang_men_. There's two of 'em lady. Yeah I saw 'em. Not their faces, no, but I saw two bodies standing in the shadows outside my place, holding two guns, saying they would blow my head off if I tried to get a good look at 'em. That's the only time we ever met and since then it's been nothin' but the letters. You're dealin' with two killers, not one, and that's my info. That good enough for you? We have a deal now?"

For a moment, no one spoke, and the silence became thick enough to feel. Numerous thoughts were already pouring through Mac's head. He glanced up at Farrone who was wide-eyed and already processing this. Mavin's face was more unreadable. Mac could not say whether he was shocked or amused, but his silence was saying quite a lot. Not even he had been prepared for what Jake had said.

Finally, Mac nodded. " Fine, you gave us something, we'll give you something in return, provided you present yourself as a witness and give us anything else you may have."

Jake held up his hands. " Fine, whatever, just keep the two freak-shows off my back."

Two. Mac had the feeling that that was going to explain a lot.

NOTE

Sneak Preview - None. Don't want to give too much away:)


	19. Dark Reasons

A/N; I apologize a million, million, million times for taking so insanely long updating. The situation with our computer took a drastic turn and we couldn't use our internet. Then we couldn't use our computer for three months. But our computer's back and I have completed the story and have posted the remaining chapters to make up for it. Again, very, very sorry. Please refrain from trying to behead me. Thank you.

Ch. 18

Darker Reasons

_He was right there. He was right over me. He watched me sleep. He had me._ Danny's thoughts were becoming like a broken record. _How long was he there? Had he broken in? Had he been waiting the whole time for me to get home?_ He knew he could think about it all he wanted, but he would never be able to wrap his brain around it, let alone his sanity. An intruder had come into his home, while he had been there. A killer had put a knife to his neck, and he hadn't even known it. The guy had been right there; the man who could never be caught had been standing right there in Danny's home…

It all sounded like some cheesy horror movie, except for the fact that he wasn't lying dead in his own blood.

_Would he have cut out my heart?_

Danny's emotions kept fluctuating between sickened horror and anger. He could've have had the guy if he had just woken up. He could have taken him.

_How the hell does someone break into your home and you not know it? How do you not wake up to that?_

Danny tapped out a slow, tuneless rhythm on the table with a plastic spoon someone had left behind.

_How pathetic can you be, Messer?_

He went from tapping the spoon to scraping it across the table hard so that it produced a high-pitched shriek.

_He was right there, holding a knife to your throat._

He pressed the spoon harder into the table and it snapped, the round end skittering away onto the floor. Danny tossed the handle away furiously and sat back, running his hand through his hair. Saying this was messed up was an understatement. He wanted to do something, to get up and act, even if it meant going through bags of evidence that had been picked clean with nothing to show for it.

" This a bad time?"

Danny looked up to see Anita standing in the doorway, smiling reassuringly though her stiff stance gave Danny the impression of uneasiness.

" It was 'bad' the moment I walked through the door this morning," he replied.

Anita flashed her teeth in a grimace. " So I heard. I guess I should ask if it's okay if I can come in and talk."

Danny shrugged. " It's cool. How'd the interview go?"

Anita went the rest of the way through the door of the break room and sat down across from Danny.

" That's what I'm here to talk about. Mac said I should be the one to tell you what we heard since I'd probably be able to explain it better."

At this, Danny perked and leaned forward to listen in with every ounce of attention he had. " I'm guessin' we finally got something?"

Anita let out a quick breath and shook her head in wide-eyed bewilderment. " You have no idea. There's two of 'em."

" Two? What'd you mean two? Two killers?"

" _Exactly_."

Danny didn't know quite how to process that. " Wow. Really? Never thought Jake would spill about somethin' like that."

" I know. I was expecting more along the lines of 'here's where I get the letters.' But fate playing Jake a bad hand gave us the winning one. Seems he's been targeted. So, in exchange for protection he gave us something major. I mean it's not really a case-buster - but it's certainly a crack in the lining."

Now it was Farrone who leaned forward as though about to go into some conspiratorial talk. " This chinks it, Danny, but in a good way. My theories, I mean. The two-headed snake, the variety of deaths, everything. These killers, I don't think they're just two serials working on the same team. I say they're brothers, and twins at that. Same egg deal, identical. Thus - the two-headed serpent."

Farrone shook her head in amazement. " Excuse me if I sound a bit - career oriented, but this is a profiler gold mine. I mean it makes so much freakin' sense I can hardly believe it. I also know why what happened to you happened. Jessi said the killer left and came back in right?"

Danny nodded rather dully. He was finding it difficult to share Anita's enthusiasm. It was all well and good they had acquired a major piece of info, but to Danny, unless they could use it, then it was more info of interest than of help.

Anita went on. " And remember how I told you about my theory of one ego acting out against the others? Well, I hold to that theory. I say it was a case of sibling rivalry. One brother trying to show up the other by moving faster with his victims. So, to teach that brother a lesson, the other brother made sure that his next killing went wrong. A way of keeping him in line, as it were."

Danny nodded again. " Makes sense, I guess. So what's the deal with bringing me into the middle of it if it's between the two of them?"

" Well, I had two trains of thought on that. One, the one brother didn't know what the other brother had done, but knew that you had arrived, so blamed the lack of death on you. Or, two, it's a warning of his own, for other brother."

Danny lowered his head, bristling inwardly like an angry cat. " How the hell is putting a knife to _my_ neck and taking a picture to send to _me_ supposed to teach _thing one_ not to go messin' with _thing two's_ little party."

Anita sat back with a shrug. " He sent twin brother a picture as well." She then sighed, and showed her teeth again in another grimace. " The thing is, after hearing about what happened to you my thoughts went straight back to Detective Myers."

Danny straightened then dropped himself against the back of his chair. Though he had not thought on it, he had expected Myers' name to pop back up, and he had a pretty good idea of where Farrone was going with it.

" You think this is going to end like it did last time, with some officer or detective literally _hanging_ at home?" he said, his tone more harsh and nasty than he intended.

Farrone's countenance became a wordless apology, and her head moved ever so slightly up and down.

Danny averted his glaring gaze to the table to keep Farrone from thinking herself the target of it. He shrugged one shoulder in a pathetic attempt at indifference. Of course the question that kept slapping into his thoughts was - why me? But it wasn't a question of self-pity, he knew. It was a professional question, an investigative question any cop, profiler, or detective would ask. Danny was new to this case, and one of many working it. So how had he become the target if that's what was going on? If anything Mavin should be the target. He had experience, he was a veteran, and had worked closely with Myers.

For once, Danny wasn't thinking in terms of resentment toward Mavin. His mind was working on logic, plain and simple. By all means, Mavin was supposed to be the target.

" _Thing two,_ as you have so colorfully termed him, was threatening to mess up the game by killing you early. Oh…!"

Danny winced and felt bilge trying to burn its way back up his throat.

" Oh, crap, Danny, I am so sorry. I - I didn't mean for it to come out like that. That might not even be the case, it's just a theory. If anything, it's what I said first about the one brother not knowing his killing had been sabotaged so took it out on you."

Danny looked up at her, scrutinizing her face and seeing discomfort still lingering in her abashed expression.

" I'm no profiler, but somehow that doesn't swing right to me. That would mean a mistake, and they don't make mistakes."

Anita's shoulders sagged as if in defeat. " You're right. There may be sibling rivalry, but the structure of the game is stronger. They're working together. They must be since they both visited Jake at the same time. The thing about sibling rivalry is that it's touch and go. It doesn't last. Whatever competition boils up can end fast if it means something happening that causes harm to the sibling. I think this same principle applies to the Hangmen. They won't let the other fall. They're helping eachother out. How else would the one know where to send you to stop the other's killing? But, still, I could still see this whole - um - picture incident - as a warning to you and you alone. It may be a mistake on their part, but it has yet to yield anything helpful to us. Any mistakes these two make will be small, something between them and nothing for us."

The queasiness sitting like a rock in Danny's stomach refused to subside. " You're tryin' doc, but it ain't helping. Basically what you're telling me is that if I want to live through this case, I can't save anyone else."

" Probably."

" If that's even the case."

Anita did not respond. She did not have to.

Danny was genuinely, undeniably screwed.

CSINY

Aiden had never taken into much consideration other people's homes unless it pertained to the case or was the kind of home that sparked a small amount of interest. But this was the home of a co-worker, a partner, so the interest was more like an explosion than a spark.

This was not the first step into Danny's domain she had taken, but it was the longest she had remained. Normally, her visits consisted of her knocking on his door when it was her turn to pick him up to head straight out to a scene, with Danny checking into work over the phone. One or two knocks and he was out the door before she could even say hi. When it was Danny's turn for a pick up, the opposite was the case. Aiden would invite him in as she finished up a last bit of this or that. Her neighbors four doors down were prone to arguing fits, and Aiden thought it impolite to keep Danny waiting out in the halls, wondering if he should break the fight up. He never said much about her place except for the occasional polite remark about how it looked nice and had a nice view.

Aiden never wondered much why Danny never invited her in. For one, he was always ready on time, so there was no need. Secondly, he was somewhat territorial in terms of his personal life. There were some things he talked about, and some things he didn't. Should he drop a subject abruptly, or skimp out on the details, the wise thing to do was leave it at that. And what was a home but a storage facility for personal effects revealing that personal life.

The one time Aiden had come into Danny's home - because the hallway was freezing - Danny had reacted a little uncomfortably to it. Yes, he had invited her in, acted as though it didn't bother him, but discomfort had been betrayed in his hesitant conversation with her.

Now that Danny wasn't here, she had free reign. She could sift through his stuff to her hearts content and learn things about him that he would never reveal. She thought this as a quiet joke, but in truth it made her ill. It would be taking advantage of him, like a thief taking advantage of a blind man. Besides, the situation could have been different. She could be taking pictures of Danny's corpse right now, and the thought put her in her place.

Danny's place was clean, but not in the compulsive neat-freak sort of way. There was a laundry basket (empty) on the kitchen counter, CDs spread on the coffee table with magazines, and a few others intermingling with movies by the TV. Other than that, the place was very well kept, not just in terms of sweeping and dusting but also in terms of the furniture matching and complimenting everything.

As expected, he had a lot of baseball stuff; a few trophies, a few autographed balls, some cards, and other such as. But it wasn't all baseball. On one shelf he had what Aiden considered to be a wickedly cool Chinese dragon carved out of jade between two small vases with red Chinese dragons painted winding sinuously about the front. He went for paintings rather than cheap posters. Some were copies, like Van Gogh's Starry Night, but others were real from unknown artists with excellent talent that made Aiden rather envious. Her particular favorite was a watercolor of a woman standing alone in a field looking up into a starry sky. The woman's expression as she stared into the sky held so many emotions - from hope to longing to sorrow - that it was difficult to look away until Aiden determined them all. Danny had great taste.

Aiden's final destination was Danny's room. Neat, clean, just like the rest of the place. She went to the window Danny had told her about and set her kit beside the bed. Snapping on some gloves, she unlocked the window and pulled it open. A gust of cool air smelling faintly of food from a nearby restaurant brushed her face. Taking out her brush and powder she dusted for prints along the frame then the glass itself, but came up with nothing.

" You were right, Aid," Flack said, entering the room. " Someone did pick the lock. There were scratches."

Aiden straightened from her squat position. " I suppose I should dust for prints just to be thorough." She set the powder and brush back into her kit, then leaned on the window to shut it.

" Danny ever invite you over before?" She asked Flack curiously as she locked the window.

" Just once. My TV went out during this game and Danny let me come over to watch the end. Wasn't for long, though. The game was practically over by the time I got here. Usually if we ever hang out it's at some sports bar or something after work."

Aiden squatted again to close up her kit, and tilted her head slightly to see if she could catch a glimpse of what Danny kept under his bed. But, thinking twice, recalling why she was here, snatched her gaze away and stood. " I think that's how we all generally hang out. You've never been to my place and I've never seen yours."

Flack grinned and snorted out a laugh. " Like you'd want to go to my place. Danny's place makes mine look like a crap-hole. Seems like I never have time to really clean up, so I tend to put everything into piles. I need to ask Danny how he does it."

" Probably never has time to make a mess." Aiden headed from the room, following Flack to the door. " Danny's the kind of guy who's about style. Not _all _about style, but if we ever had casual Fridays I think he'd come in wearing the same kind of clothes he always does. He dresses neat, it's only logical he's going to have a neat place."

Flack opened the door and held it open as Aiden stepped out into the hall.

The tall detective shook his head. " Too bad he can't come back to it at the moment, poor guy."

Aiden knelt in front of the door and studied the lock to the knob and bolt. Both had faint scratches on them that could only be caused by someone trying to pick a lock without being able to see it clearly. Danny said that the lights of the hallway were useless at night. The light filling the place now came from windows at either end of the corridor.

" Better that than what could've happened." Aiden shuddered. " It freaks me out every time I _think_ about that stupid picture." She opened her kit and pulled out the powder and brush. She dipped the brush lightly into the black powder and gently touched it to the knob and bolt. " I thought Danny was havin' a heart attack right then and there. I mean it looked like someone pullin' a prank. At least that's what I kept thinking. But, man, it made me want to puke. Not even that head we found in the dumpster made me want to do that."

" Well, you didn't know the guy who owned the head. We know Danny. He's our friend. It's always worse when it's personal."

Finding no prints, Aiden set the powder and brush back into her kit. She then looked down the hall in both directions, thinking over procedures and what they should do next.

" Think we should start knockin' on doors, askin' questions?"

" We could, I guess. I wouldn't bother, though. Hangman's too careful for that. Besides, Danny told me once how he didn't know a single person who lived in his building and they didn't know him. Even if anybody saw someone just standin' at Danny's door, they probably wouldn't remember which door it was."

Aiden looked up at Flack incredulously. " He really doesn't know anyone? Or was he just exaggerating? Even I made an effort to know one or two people in case it came in handy." Aiden shook her head in disbelief and pushed herself to her feet. " Hope he never disappears."

Flack smirked. " That's what I told him."

They headed out the building and drove back to the lab, and there parted ways so Flack could go talk to Mac and Aiden could go grab lunch. On entering the break room she found Danny stretched out on the faded black couch on the far end of the room. He was staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded on top of his chest and his feet crossed on the couch's arm.

" Find anything?" he asked.

Aiden set her kit on the table nearest the couch and moved to the fridge to grab her lunch. " Nope."

" Touch anything?"

Aiden opened the fridge and grabbed the sack containing her sandwich, salad, and drink. " Only what I had to." Then, grinning, she set her bag on the table, turned, and leaned back against one of the chairs. " Actually, me and Flack got kind of bored so we raided your fridge, dug through your closet, found this suitcase full of cash…"

When Danny didn't respond, not even blink, she dropped it. The room became uncomfortably quiet, and Aiden was feeling a rising twinge of guilt at having tried poking some fun at Danny.

She cleared her throat and racked her brain for a way to end it. " You've got a nice place. I really like those paintings you got. You buy 'em at a gallery or something?"

" If I can afford 'em."

Aiden nodded, then looked at her feet for a while as the silence settled back in. She wanted to say something, anything, to keep that silence away. It struck her as almost unnatural the way Danny was keeping so still and quiet. It wasn't Danny's way to just sit around, let alone lie around, as he was doing, his expression blank as a clean slate. It made her feel as though she were talking to a stranger she had just met, trying to get to know him before the awkward silence finally chased him off.

" Um, I saw a picture of your dad. You look a lot like him. Except without the gray hair and… stuff."

The silence remained, and discomfort was growing into annoyance for Aiden.

" Danny, you all right?"

" Awesome."

Aiden rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her side. " Danny, quit jerkin' around with me…"

" Wanna hear something interesting?"

" Sure, what?"

" There's two killers, not one."

Had Aiden's jaw not been attached it would have dropped to the floor. " You're kidding!"

" Mac talked to that guy Jake and he spilled it. There's two of 'em. Farrone thinks they're brothers 'cause of the snake. Makes sense if you think about it."

Aiden stood to turn the chair around and sit down. The thought of two killers felt a lot more creepy that the thought of one with a split personality. But then again, twice the killers twice the damage.

" Supposedly, the whole knife at the neck thing was a warning because I saved one of their victims. Either that…" he trailed off and began twitching one foot.

" Either that or what?" Aiden pressed. " What else could it be?"

Danny stopped twitching his foot. He exhaled, furrowing his brow with troubled thought. " Nothing." He pushed himself up, sat for a moment staring at the floor, then pushed himself to his feet. " Nothing, never mind. It's not important."

He started heading for the door.

" Yes it is, what?"

Danny shook his head. " It doesn't matter. I got stuff I gotta do…"

He was out the door before Aiden could say anything else. Obviously it wasn't nothing, but she knew Danny well enough not to go pressing the issue. He didn't need to be hassled.

But she couldn't get the issue out of her mind. She turned to her lunch, but with less of an appetite. Two serial killers; now that was messed up. Yet not as messed up as that picture. A part of Aiden wanted to know what the 'either that' part of the conversation had been about. Something else had been said, or discovered. Or perhaps Danny was just losing himself into depression, becoming haunted by what-if scenarios that all ended in his death.

Aiden ate what she could and put the rest away for a later time. She wiped her hands on a napkin, then stood, snatching up her kit and heading out the door. She was heading to the lab to seek out Stella and ask her about what she found. She was also hoping to run into Danny, though it would only result in another bout of awkward silence.

She found neither one along the way. Instead, she sighted Mavin heading toward the door and in so doing, heading toward her. Acting on impulse she stepped in front of him and blocked his way. He halted abruptly and made to go around her.

" Hey!" she snapped, blocking his way again. " I wanna talk to you."

Mavin glared at Aiden in a dangerous way, but Aiden didn't even let it register.

" About what?"

" About Danny."

Mavin gave Aiden a look as though she had lost it, then brushed past her. She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his coat before he took three steps, stopping him suddenly.

" Anything happens to him, I'm holding you responsible," she said. Again, he gave her a look as though she were nuts.

" What? He ain't even workin' with me anymore. Besides, what would you do? Search my house for unpaid parking tickets?"

" What'd you got against him, huh? Why were you always ridin' him? What did he do to you?"

Mavin refused to respond except to shake his head. He jerked his arm free of her grasp and continued on. Aiden didn't know why she had said that to Mavin, but it felt good all the same. She felt like he was to blame. He had begun the escalating process of making Danny's life miserable after all.

But the good feeling didn't last. Aiden's worry wouldn't let it.


	20. Truth Be told

Ch. 19

Truth be Told

Danny found himself back in the break room lying stretched out on the couch, staring back up at the ceiling. His shift had ended a long time ago, the most pointless shift of his life. The picture and envelope had wielded nothing for Stella, just like every other piece of evidence they had gone over for the up-teenth time that day. He was supposed to head off to some hotel where he could be under police surveillance, yet had managed to convince Mac to let him stay at HQ, at least for tonight. It wouldn't be the first time Danny had stayed at work all night, even off the clock, though he was normally _doing_ something when it happened.

Right now, all he really wanted to do was go home. Normally he never liked going straight home unless he was exhausted or in no mood to deal with anymore people. But the desire for something was always strongest when it was denied.

Then he would think of the picture, and what he and Farrone had talked about. He hadn't talked to anyone about what Farrone had said, since it was only a theory and nothing about this case was staying the same. Maybe it was a warning to the brother and not Danny, and maybe it wasn't. Both were plausible and Danny knew better than to jump to the conclusion that sounded better. He also didn't tell anyone about it since it sounded paranoid even to him.

It felt more like an insult than a potential attack; being kicked out of his own home because of a picture that could have been dealt with as a prank if it were any other situation.

He still didn't get why it was him and not Mavin. Maybe Mavin was in on it. It was a harsh thought, but Danny didn't care. The man deserved it.

Danny closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the monotonous ceiling. He wasn't tired, and doubted he would fall asleep any time soon. He wondered if he would ever be able to fall asleep again.

The door to the break room opened, but Danny kept his eyes closed. It seemed a little early for the night shift to be coming in for a snack. He only hoped that whoever it was they weren't in the mood for conversation, because Danny sure as hell wasn't.

" Hey Messer."

Danny's eyes snapped open and he rolled his head toward the voice he had hoped never to hear again. Mavin was standing by the door with his hands in his pockets, wearing an expression as if he had just stepped into dog crap while wearing his best shoes.

" Get up. I need you're help with somethin'."

Danny rolled his head away to look back up at the ceiling. " Didn't you hear, Mavin? We don't work together anymore. Go ask someone else."

Danny heard Mavin snort. " Believe me, Messer, I would have. But guess what, you're the only one available."

Danny checked his watch that read nine twenty and grinned. " You're outta luck, Mavin. I'm off the clock. Plus, if you didn't hear me the first time, I'm not working with you anymore. So either dig up someone else to torture or wait until morning."

" That might not be a good idea considering."

" Considering what?"

" Considering I got a letter."

Danny turned his head again to see Mavin holding up a folded sheet of paper. That had Danny's interest enough to at least listen in, and he pushed himself into sitting position.

" Okay then, what's it say?"

" To go to the return address."

" Have fun then," and Danny moved to lie back down.

" Don't even, Messer. I need a CSI with me and you're the only one sitting on his butt not doing anything."

Danny shook his head with dead resolve. " Screw it, Mavin, I'm not going with you on this one. It's just another trap, and you know it."

" What if it's not?"

Danny just stared at Mavin, because he knew the man was right.

Mavin seemed aware of this. " It ain't the same, anymore. These guys are expanding and doing all kinds of crap. You really want to take the chance and say this is nothing? You can't turn your back on these guys. If this is another chance to stop someone from dying and you don't help me out then it'll be on your head, not mine."

Btard, Danny thought. When it came to making points Mavin struck hard and fast.

" You really can't find _anyone_ else?" Danny asked.

" You don't think I tried? Believe me, Messer, I tried. Now you comin' or not?"

Danny studied Mavin over carefully. The man looked genuinely pissed, as though he hated having to ask for Danny's help more than Danny hated being asked.

" Let me see the letter," Danny said. Mavin threw his arms up in a show of impatience, then took four long strides over to Danny, tossing the letter to him.

The letter was short and to the point, telling Mavin to be at the return address at around eleven, but with no heavily articulate mention of anyone getting 'hurt' should he not make it in time. Still, one could not ignore the similarities. There could be a life at stake, and the killer's neglect at mentioning it was part of a means to make things more interesting or unique. Danny still wanted to say no, but neither did he want to chance anything.

" Satisfied? Can we go now?"

Danny was going to regret this. Dread was already creeping up his spine in the form of icy pinpricks. He held up the letter. " Let me dump this thing off at trace and sign _back_ in."

CSINY

The address took them to a neighborhood that Danny had some familiarity with, having worked two homicides in the area just last year. It was a mixture of apartments and stores, with the vast majority of the buildings being empty and disowned. The only stores not permanently locked down were a liquor store, an adult video store, and a small convenient store. As for the apartments, most needed to be condemned, and were either occupied by homeless or druggies.

Mavin parked his car in front of the convenient store, and the two of them crossed the street and headed up the block three complexes down. Each building looked no different from the other, except for the few that were more dilapidated than others. The place with the address was one of those, and Danny felt like he needed a tetanus shot just looking at it. It was three stories high, with every window broken and the front layered in decades of graffiti. Danny recognized some of the gang signs within the tangle of letters and pictures, but it was too dark to know which were the most recent.

Mavin chuckled when he glanced at the building. " Maybe they're hoping the place'll fall on us or something."

" Yeah, maybe," Danny replied dryly. Mavin's dark sense of humor seemed to always verge on sick. But Danny was too preoccupied with the look of the building to fully care what Mavin had to say. Danny hated these kinds of places. They were perfect for hiding in, and if it wasn't the perp jumping out of a closet then it was a junkie on a crack binge hallucinating beyond what was possible.

They climbed the steps of the stoop and went through the door-less entrance, taking out their lights and clicking them on. The first thing that hit Danny was the putrid air smelling of urine, mold, and animal crap. The carpet of the foyer had been pulled up, leaving only patches and glue-stains of its existence. Danny passed his light over the graffiti scribbled walls striped in water stains stretching from the ceiling to the floor.

" Third floor, Messer," Mavin announced. Danny followed the detective up the stairs in the right hand corner of the foyer. As they climbed, the air became heavier with bad smells and thick as though the heating still functioned and had been left on. Danny unzipped his blue CSI standard jacket. Normally he wouldn't wear it on a simple run like this, but it wasn't cold enough for his coat, neither warm enough to go without a jacket.

They came to the end of the stairs and entered a water-stained corridor.

" You sure you know where you're going Mavin?" Danny asked.

" Relax, Messer. It was all in the letter. Just five doors down…"

Mavin stopped abruptly, forcing Danny to halt before running into him.

" You hear that?" he asked in a low voice. Danny strained his hearing into the silence. He caught something that sounded like a short shout.

" Son of a…" Mavin snarled, pulling out his gun, and took off at a run.

Danny started in alarm, then darted after the detective. Five doors down Mavin burst into the apartment room on the left, only to stop abruptly once more, letting out an exasperated sigh.

A tall, lanky man was pacing in short circles of what would be the living room. He must have been late twenties or early thirties, with stringy brown hair that went past his shoulders and a scraggly beard that stood out against his pale face. The guy was high, there was no doubt about that as he circled and murmured, tossing his hands up in the air like one caught up in a bad argument. Whenever he tossed his head back Danny caught a glimpse of his blood-shot and vacant gray eyes. The man was dressed in ragged jeans and a stained black T-shirt, and on the floor outside his pacing circle was a brown paper bag.

Mavin snickered and placed his weapon back within his coat. " This the trap then? A crack-head? Man, they're really hard up for stuff to do, aren't they?"

Danny didn't reply. It looked and felt too weird to take lightly in his opinion. He glanced around the room with walls decorated in more spray-paint. There was a giant cable spool on the right hand side of the room covered by a red cloth. There were beer-cans, liquor bottles, and cigarette butts piled in corners and along the perimeter of the room, as well as the rooms through the doors. This place had been occupied by more than just one junkie.

Danny shook his head. " Don't knock it yet, Mavin. We just got here. This doesn't feel right."

" Chill, Messer. If something was gonna happen then it would have happened."

Mavin moved toward the junkie, reaching out his hand to clasp the man's shoulder. " Hey buddy. Time to snap out of it."

At Mavin's touch, the junkie reacted by smacking Mavin's hand away then springing onto the detective, knocking him to the floor and shouting profanities into his face. The man's hands were seeking Mavin's throat, and though Mavin was holding them back the druggie's state of mind was making him stronger than he looked.

Danny dropped his kit and ran at the junkie, plowing into him and toppling him off of Mavin. The two rolled and Danny managed to wrap his arm around the junkie's throat. The junkie scrambled onto his feet, pulling Danny up with him, and immediately began throwing himself backward to ram Danny against the wall. At the same time he bashed the point of his right elbow sharply into Danny's ribs and chest. The cracking pain loosened Danny's hold but did not break it.

The man then snapped his head back into Danny's face, snapping Danny's own head in turn.

" On your knees!"

Danny heard the command like a voice in a dream. Stars flashed in his vision and his head spun as something warm trailed from his nose down his face and neck. The junkie's hands were clawing at Danny's arm, trying to pull it free.

" I said on your knees!"

The man responded by screaming, and throwing himself back at a more awkward angle. Burning pain ripped through Danny's arm and he finally let go, dropping back first onto the clutter of glass bottles and cans that shattered and flattened beneath him. More pain radiated from somewhere on his back but fell everywhere. He gritted his teeth by clamping his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the agony to pass. He heard the junkie scream, Mavin shout for the man to drop, and the pounding of feet as the junkie took off from the room, sobbing.

" D--m it!" Mavin snarled. Danny then felt hands grip the collar of his jacket, and he was hauled onto his feet. The movement created a fresh eruption of pain and he had to lean against the wall before he blacked out.

Yet even through the haze of pain, Danny was able to realize something odd. He turned his head to look at Mavin in astonishment.

" You didn't shoot him," he panted.

Mavin, also panting, re-holstered his gun then wiped sweat from his mouth.

" You sound surprised, Messer. The guy wasn't armed; I had no reason to shoot him. Besides, he was a potential witness. And I will _not_ get busted just because the bullet might pass through him into you."

Danny stared at Mavin uncertainly. " Potential witness? That guy's brain was so fried he wouldn't have even been speaking the same language if we calmed him down enough to talk. But I believe you on the getting busted part."

Danny pushed himself from the wall. More pain shot through his arm and he gripped it with his other hand. He could feel the grating of bone against bone and it was making him sick. The return throbbing of his chest and the stinging pain in his back was reinforcing it.

" I knew I shouldn't of come," Danny mumbled, sucking a sharp breath in between his teeth when more pain radiated. On the plus side, at least his glasses were still intact.

" You should've just let the creep go," Mavin said berratingly.

" I was trying to bring him down," Danny snapped back.

" Fat lotta good that did. Listen, you wait here. I'm going to see if I can't run that guy down."

Mavin turned to take off, but didn't even take a step when Danny grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

" Forget it, Mavin, he's long gone by now. I need to get to a doctor, you hear me? This isn't like last time, Mavin. I got more than a few cracks. My shoulders been dislocated and something's wrong with my back. And I'm not gonna wait around for you to chase down some guy who probably can't even tell us what year it is. So let's just go while we can and come back tomorrow."

Mavin stared at Danny with neither anger nor amusement, just blank scrutiny as though he couldn't decide how to react. Then he reached up and shoved Danny's hand from his shoulder.

" Whatever. Just let me do a quick scope of the place."

Danny took a step back. " Fine. But quick had better mean a minute and not twenty minutes."

Mavin twitched his head in a tense nod, then strode off in wide steps to the adjoining room. A minute later he was back out, shaking his head in disappointment. Danny followed him out of the room, grabbing his kit along the way though the movement aggravated every nerve he had. But when they came to the foyer Mavin stopped and looked back, craning his neck in a listening fashion. Danny continued on.

" He's gone, Mavin. Get over it."

Danny stepped through the entrance back into the breathable air of the outside world. It was a quiet night in terms of New York with all sounds muffled by distance. It was silence enough, though, for him to catch a small chorus of voices that seemed to be growing steadily louder. Danny looked left, and saw a small cluster of silhouetted forms moving in his direction.

Danny immediately stepped back, acting on instinct. Groups of people walking darkened streets in the dead of night were never a good sign. But what made Danny really nervous was the fact that he was standing in a heavily tagged building that showed signs of use. Danny and Mavin had been led here for a reason. There was a trap involved, and Danny highly doubted that the junkie had been that trap. No druggie would be even near that predictable.

The voices were nearing, becoming more distinct with laughter and swearing. Danny backed up into the foyer and turned to Mavin.

" We've got a problem," he said. He glanced over his shoulder every time another burst of laughter sounded.

Mavin turned to Danny, wearing a look of deep impatience. " What?"

" I think we might be on some gang's turf. A bunch of guys are heading this way."  
Mavin shrugged. " So?"

Danny narrowed his eyes in growing agitation. " So, it made me realize something. What if crack-head wasn't the trap. This is gang turf, Mavin. It's been tagged a couple of hundred times. And some gangs don't take too well to having cops in their territory. Now I don't know about you but I'm a little tired of getting banged up here. That and I would really like it if I didn't get shot any time soon. We need to find a back way out of here…"

Danny began turning in search of another exit, but it was too dark to see anything and his only useable hand was holding onto his kit.

" Messer, stop. Don't move."

Danny froze. " What?"

" There's blood on your back."

The voices were even more distinct, almost as if they were just right outside now. Danny's heart began beating faster, and his mind raced.

" Screw it, I'll deal with it later, we don't have time. I'll go out there, see if I can't distract them. You go find another way out."

Danny started moving to the door when Mavin grabbed his uninjured arm.

" Whoa, Messer! What the Hell! You nuts? What was all that crap about you not wanting to get banged up again and you're just gonna go out there?"

Danny looked back at Mavin. " I'm banged up enough so they won't care where I come from. Trust me. And take this."

He thrusted the kit into Mavin's hands, then pulled free of his grip. He headed to the door, pulling off his jacket. He tried to be careful about it but even such a simple action turned into torture that made his eyes water and his whole frame shake. He turned the jacket inside out, hiding the CSI lettering on the back, then placed the jacket back on in another onslaught of torment as he stumbled outside. He then began walking toward the group as the group walked toward him.

Even in the poor illumination from the few working streetlights he could still see some detail of the group. They were all wearing heavy coats with their faces hidden within heavy hoods. A few had their hoods down, but Danny could not determine clearly whether they were Hispanic or white trying to pass off as being Hispanic.

At their first sight of Danny the group slowed. Danny's heart was beating so hard it made it difficult to breathe. He swallowed against a tightened throat, then cleared it, hoping his fear would be mistaken for pain.

" Hey," he said in a hoarse voice. " Any of you guy's have a phone? I - I think I need an ambulance."

The boys murmured to eachother, then the tallest of them stepped forward.

" What the hell happened to you? And what were you doing in our place?"

Thought so, Danny thought. " What'd you think I was doing? I'm lookin' for freakin' help. My girlfriend's ex paid a surprise visit. She let's us duke it out, beggin' us to stop. Then he wins and I'm out the door, drippin' blood. Go figure, right?"

The leader, at least Danny assumed him to be the leader, looked Danny up and down. " Man, you do look like crap. Was he big?"

Danny looked away, feigning shame and feigning at trying to hide it. " Doesn't matter. Can you guys help me or what?"

The leader held up both his hands, taking a step back. " Sorry, homes, but ambulances tend to bring the cops around here, and I'm not getting' hauled in for beatin' you're a-- when I didn't do it. But, hey, there's a couple of stores back the way we came that could help you out. You'd be easier to find there anyway."

Danny nodded. " Yeah, thanks."

The small gang parted to let him through, then continued on their way. Danny let out a breath of sweet relief, then quickened his steps though it jolted his arm. He soon came to the car, and was both surprised and irritated to find Mavin leaning casually against it as though he had been waiting there for a long time.

Yet when Danny came into view of Mavin, the detective straightened, but his face was in shadows hiding his expression.

" What happened?" he asked immediately. " They try anything?"

Danny shook his head. He could have sworn he heard something akin to concern in Mavin's tone.

" They bought the crap I told 'em. Let's get out of here. I could really go for some pain killers right about now."

Danny made his way around to the passenger side and put his hand on the handle. But he paused when he looked up at Mavin and saw the man's features clearly. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were wide. He seemed confused, while at the same time startled.

Danny released the door handle and tossed his hand up in the air. " What?"

Mavin narrowed his eyes in a scrutinizing manner. " You realize what you did back there?"

Danny dropped his head in frustration, letting it momentarily hang limp from his neck. He then snapped his head back up. " Nearly killed myself?"

" You saved my A-- Messer. You actually risked your own to save mine," Mavin smirked. " And here I thought you hated me."

Danny glared at Mavin from beneath heavy-lidded eyes. " I do Mavin. But you don't stand around just to watch another cop die. So, in truth, I don't hate you bad enough to risk not doing my job. Here's a question, though," he added with unconfined bitterness. " Would you have done the same? I'm kind of curious."

Mavin's visage melted into sincere shock. " Yeah! Of course I would…" then he trailed off.

Danny felt bone weary and sick with pain, but a peculiar look came to Mavin's face that made him momentarily forget his state, a look Danny had yet to see on the man and one he thought he would never see; abashment. Mavin was looking genuinely worried and uncomfortable, and this made Danny suddenly tense up.

" What?"

Mavin inhaled slowly, but exhaled quickly. " I gotta level with you, Danny."

_Crap_! Danny mentally spat. _He is in on it. I was just kidding when I thought that. _

" There's a little something about this case I don't think anyone realizes, not even Farrone. It's something I came to realize over time after the last Hangmen spree. I don't even know if it actually holds water - but it seems like it does if you take into consideration that these guys are skilled hunters. The traps - I don't think they're put in place for just laughs. I think there's more to them. I think that they use the traps to help, you know, pick victims. The first trap we came across was triggered by Myers. It was a cement brick tied to some string. When she opened a door it fell out, smashing her hand on the way down. She'd been wounded."

Danny forced his mind to ignore the pain and listen more intently to what Mavin had to say.

" These guys go after the wounded ones - emotionally _and_ physically. You get hurt, you're a target."

" So why didn't the others who got snagged by a trap get killed too?" Danny asked.

Mavin shrugged. " I'm not completely sure. Maybe they were going to but couldn't get to them. Or maybe they just needed one. Maybe it depended on how hurt they were, or their position on this case. Myers' got hurt more than once, so I'm leaning toward how hurt they were. But that's the thing, Messer. So far, you're the only one to get hurt on this case… twice."

Danny's mind shot back to the picture, and Farrone's theory of it being a warning to the brother.

" They're gonna come after you, Messer."

_I could have told you that_, Danny thought but managed not to spat. But then he was struck with another thought, one that made him even sicker than the pain.

" And you had me come along anyway? You knew this, had known it. Why didn't you say anything? Why did you bring me out here when - you know?"

Mavin averted his gaze to anywhere but Danny. " I wanted - I wanted to see if it was true, if my theory was right. I…"

Now Danny wished he had left Mavin to the gang-bangers. " You son of a b----, you were using me as bait?"

Mavin continued to look away from Danny. Danny's breath came faster with his rising anger, and he winced from the fiery agony tearing through his ribcage.

" You were, weren't you. You were using me as bait and to take the brunt of the traps." Danny slammed the top of the car with his fist. " You were usin' me you sick freak! And now I saved you're life and you feel all guilty about it, right? You feel bad and want to make amends, so you warn me. Well guess what, Mavin, it's old news. Already know I'm targeted. They told me, personally, by putting a knife to my throat and taking a picture of it while I was sleeping."

At this, Mavin finally looked at Danny, but with horror. " What?"

" They're gonna kill me, Mavin! I'm their end game, just like Myers!"

Pain and rage was creating a haze in Danny's mind, one he could not handle. He wanted to beat Mavin to a bloody mess, let him know pain for a while. But just as badly he wanted his own pain to end, which was growing worse the angrier he got.

" You talk about games Mavin, so I'm gonna play. You want me as bait, then you got me as bait. Central Park isn't that far from here. It's a good place for a body to turn up, don't you think? The hangmen brothers like to watch. They're probably watching us right now. And it's about time for another body. You play your cards right and time it good, you might just show up while one of 'em is cutting me open. So I'll see you around Mavin."

With that said, Danny took off at his fastest walk, letting the haze become a fog that muffled the voice of reason trying to scream in his brain.


	21. Bait

Ch. 20

Bait

Mavin watched Danny walk away, and never had he hated the guy more than he did at that moment. It was a powerful, heated hatred that made Mavin want to break Danny's neck for real. The kid was showing him up, showing off. He was going to get himself killed, and Mavin would take the blame. But what Mavin hated most was that Danny, without even thinking on it, had taken the initiative and helped Mavin to sneak away from the approaching gang. Whether the gang would have reacted in violence or not even Mavin could say. It didn't really matter, though. All in all, Danny _had_ saved his life, and that made _him _the better man for it.

Mavin wouldn't have saved anyone's life. He would have just walked out the door to take his chances with the gang, giving little consideration to all possibilities.

Mavin's anger welled in his chest, expanding like a balloon, causing his blood to scream through his ears and his temple to throb. He clenched his fists, which shook, and hoped beyond hope that when he did find Danny that he would be gutted and empty of blood. His fury rose, higher and higher, until a red haze filled his mind and tainted his vision.

Then it seeped out of him quick as siphoned water. He could no longer hold onto it, but had no outlet to vent it on. So, it emptied from him on its own. Emotions could be peculiar in that way. They build and build, reaching the point where they have no more room to grow, so collapse back in. Deflate, as it were.

As the anger drained from him, the reasons for his anger drained with it until all that was left was the fact that Danny had saved him, and he was wandering off to go wait for a killer. Then, replacing the anger entirely, much to Mavin's slight disgust, was a grudging respect for Danny. It was no fondness, no admiration, but enough to make Mavin realize that this wasn't the way to go. In truth, he _had_ been using Danny as bait, in a way, but more to prove his theory than to catch the Hangmen. Mavin had wanted to use himself for that task, to bring them in on his own merit and with no one else's help. They had always been his to catch; his and Myers had she lived.

It didn't matter, though. There would be no bringing them in. They weren't that stupid. Mavin could desire it to his grave, but the reality of the situation had finally come down hard. They would never be caught.

Mavin tilted his head back and let fly a string of curses into the cool air smelling faintly of water and frying food. With that done, he locked the car and set off after Danny on foot.

CSINY

Danny couldn't help laughing, despite the pain it caused him. He did not know why he thought it funny seeing Mavin standing in front of him, but it was. It might've been the pain, or the fact that Mavin had come way earlier than Danny expected.

" What's so funny?" Mavin snapped.

Danny looked up at Mavin. " You in on all this?" he asked without thinking it through first. Mavin's eyes rounded over in disbelief.

" What? What do you mean, 'in on this?" Mavin's hands suddenly shot out, grabbing Danny by the collar and hauling him to his feet. " You accusing me of something, Messer?"

More agony tore through Danny, and his chuckling was brought to a dead halt when the breath caught in his throat. He gasped hoarsely, going rigid.

" Ah crap! It was a joke, Mavin. I thought you of all people knew a joke when you heard it!" he choked out.

Mavin let go of Danny's collar, but kept one hand against his good shoulder as support when Danny began stumbling forward.

Danny inhaled a shuddering breath as deep as his chest would allow. " I would've been dead by now if you were anyway. So, you come to hide in the bushes and wait these guy's out?"

The corner of Mavin's mouth turned up in a flash of a smile that quickly vanished. " Tempting. No. I'm here to haul you're butt to a doctor so I don't get chewed up and spit out by your boss tomorrow. Come on; let's get this over with. The sooner we arrive the sooner we can be sitting in the waiting room, drinking bad coffee, and waiting for all eternity just for some doctor to tell you what you already know."

Danny winced when he felt his shoulder scrape again. " Man I want to go home. I'm sick of this crap."

They made their methodical way back to the car. Every step jarred Danny's shoulder, and he had to stop once to dry-heave a few times.

" When you get in the car," Mavin said as they approached it, " keep your head out the window."

Danny did something similar by resting his forehead against the frame.

" So what's the deal with this picture? Why didn't I here about it?" Mavin asked as he pulled away from the curb.

Danny shrugged his uninjured shoulder. He was too tired to think. " I don't know. Maybe that's how much people don't like you."

" Stow it Messer. Seriously, what happened?"

" One of the Hangmen got into my place, put a knife to my neck, and took a picture of it. It was like a warning or something, I don't know for who though. Let's talk about it later. I'm gonna puke and at this speed it'll just splash back into your car."

They fell into silence the rest of the way.

On arriving at the emergency room they only had to wait five minutes. The cut on Danny's back was dealt with first; disinfected then stitched up. It hadn't been long, but it had been deep. He was X-rayed afterward, and once the doctor had a look at the ghost-white images of the bones gave Danny the ultimatum of staying over night to have his shoulder popped back in the morning, or have it done now. Normally it was best to wait, the doctor said, but Danny couldn't take the scraping anymore. Neither could he stand the idea of waiting just as much. So they gave him a painkiller in the form of a liquid, then a numbing agent through a needle to the arm. Once all feeling was gone from his shoulder say for a vague prickling, a thick-armed male nurse came in and assisted the doctor in pushing and twisting Danny's arm until the ball finally snapped back into the socket. The painkillers kept the agony low, but there was still pain that left Danny shivering and sick. More X-rays were taken, and Danny's arm was put in a sling. There was little they could do for his ribs.

" I really think you should stay just for tonight," the doctor said to Danny.

Danny was rebuttoning his shirt with one hand. He shook his head that felt light enough to float away.

" I'll come back tomorrow. What does it matter where I am if I'm just going to lay down, right?"

The doctor conceded, but hesitantly. Danny was escorted back into the waiting room. He could see through the windows the indigo blue of a sky on its way to morning. Mavin was by the public coffee machine, leaning against the table. When he looked up to see Danny, he glared, lifting his Styrofoam cup.

" Bad coffee and waiting for eternity. Just like I said."

Danny pressed the palm of his hand to his throbbing forehead. " Yeah? At least you didn't have someone trying to break your arm while tryin' to fix it."

Mavin tossed his cup in the garbage and pushed himself away from the table. The two of them headed out through the sliding doors. Already a few birds were waking up and starting their chattering chorus.

" Where to now?"

" Home," Danny groaned.

" Wait, you sure about that? Didn't you say one of the killer's broke into your place?"

Danny's mind was swimming between reality and the fog of numbness created by painkillers. Mavin was right, Danny knew he was, and it made his heart feel like it had plummeted into his stomach. He really wanted to go home.

" D--m it," he growled. " Fine - just drive me by the place so I can grab some stuff. I'll stay at a _freakin'_ hotel. I hate hotels."

" Better that than dead."

" If I'm going to stay someplace else I should've just stayed at the hospital." But in truth, the hospital sounded less appealing.

When Mavin brought Danny home, the sky had gone from indigo to gray-blue, and traffic was starting to pick up.

" Need any help?" Mavin asked sounding less than pleased.

" Naw, I got it. I just need some stuff… like a cleaner shirt," Danny replied as he pushed himself up from the car with one hand. His fuzzed brain found it both odd and comical that Mavin was acting something near hospitable. But despite Mavin's poor attempt at being good-natured, Danny still despised the idea of the man setting foot in his place.

" How long is this gonna take?" Mavin called as Danny moved onto the sidewalk.

Danny's mind was too distorted to think up a vicious comeback, so he just went with the first number that popped into his head.

" Five minutes. That's it. If I'm not back by then it means I'm probably passed out cold on the floor."

He entered his building, oblivious to everything and reaching his place without even realizing it until he was at the door. He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the knob, then stepped inside his shadowed living room. He caught himself at the last minute from dropping onto his couch and crashing. He shook his head in a poor attempt to clear it, then removed the CSI jacket, setting it on the counter. It slid to the floor with a hiss of material, but Danny's muscles were too stiff to let him bend and pick it up.

His shirt was already untucked, so he reached up to begin unbuttoning it. He did not even get the first one undone when he paused on hearing a noise. It sounded like a faint clink, like keys or chains. Danny tensed, dropping his hand to his gun beneath his shirt and turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Something rattled, and Danny was struck across the face by a lump of cold, uneven metal. The blow caused his head and whole body to snap around. He dropped like a sack of rocks onto his knees as lights flashed and pulsed in his vision. He swayed on his hand and knees, blinking rapidly when something thick and warm oozed toward his eyes. The same warmth was tracing a path down the side of his face. The sharp metallic flavor of blood filled his mouth, and he spat a glob of it onto the tiled floor of his kitchen.

" Easy now," came a strange, lilting voice from behind him. " Just stay still. It'll be okay. Just don't move. It should be over soon."

The tone was like that of someone trying calm a snarling dog. The blurred and shadowed world was spinning to Danny. He swayed, fell to his side onto the injured arm, then shoved himself back onto his knees when pain shot through him.

" Don't' move!" the voice hissed.

All at once, faster than Danny could blink, something thin and sharp was wrapped around his throat and pulled viciously back. Both Danny's hands, in spite of his injury, shot to the wire, but he was pulled harshly up and back, his spine arching painfully. He was then pulled onto his feet, only to have his feet kicked out from under him so that he fell backward onto the floor. All the while the wire tightened, biting into the flesh of his neck, crushing his esophagus and trachea. Danny's legs kicked as he tried to push himself backward and create slack. He clawed at his neck, trying to get his fingernails beneath the wire that was cutting him open. He could not breathe, even so much as wheeze in a small amount of oxygen. Panic gripped him and he thought his heart was going to explode it was pounding so fast.

Then, before he could black out, the binding wire slackened, just enough for him to suck in a harsh, grating breath.

" Easy now," cooed the voice. Danny cringed when he felt the wire move, sliding around his neck. He saw a figure move out of the corner of his eye, crouching and walking to position itself in front of him but a little to the left. Danny could not see the figure except as a mass of shadows distorted by the darkness and flashes of light hazing his vision.

The pressure of the wire was now at the back of his neck more than the front. Then the pressure at the front increased as the figure twisted the wire together.

" Don't move. It'll be slow if you move. Stay still and it will be quick. Just let me do this and it will be over."

The figure reached out to pull Danny's gun from its holster and stretch up to set it on the counter. The figure then pulled something out from within his own clothes. Faint light flash along a silvery surface, and even in Danny's hazed state his brain still registered what it was; a knife.

Panic took a whole new kind of hold, and Danny tried to jerk back away from the knife. But the figure yanked back like one trying to discipline a disobedient dog.

" No, no, no," the figure whispered, still in that strangely soothing tone. " You shouldn't do that. Just hold still. I have to do this. It has to be done. So just hold still."

Danny felt the blade press against his chest just below his neck.

" Normally, I wouldn't do it this way. I would let you die first. But my brother is letting me do this, as an apology. But you, you need to be punished. So I'm afraid you have to be alive for this, and awake. It'll be terrible. You won't be able to scream, but you'll want to. But I can't let you. You will be awake, though, and it _will_ be terrible. Then - it will be over."

Though for some panic had a way of forcing the mind to shift into primal instincts of flight or fight, for Danny it sent his mind reeling a mile a second over ways he could possibly get out of this alive. What had Farrone said about these guys? They had talked about weaknesses and what they could be. But Danny's mind was moving too quickly to recall, and the pressure of the knife against his chest wasn't helping any.

" You shouldn't have listened to my brother," said the figure. " You should have just let her die. My brother would have killed you quickly. But I can't. You have to be taught. All of you do."

The figure maneuvered the knife with the point pressed against Danny. He felt a sharp sting and an increase of pressure against his sternum, and finally realized why Aiden had been so paranoid about knives.

" You brought this on yourself."

The sting became pain.

" You'll be my best work yet."

Danny could feel blood. He sucked in as much air as he could.

" W-wait!" he rasped, panting and speaking between pants. " Wait, wait, wait. Please wait."

The pressure stopped but did not relent. " Why? Why should I wait? Do you have something you wish to say? You can say something, if you wish. I - I don't mind."

Danny swallowed though nothing would go down. Blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth. " I - not - not in the front. Don't do it in the front. The back."

" What?"

Danny took in another labored breath. " B-back. I - I don't want to - to see it." he coughed painfully once then closed his eyes. " I don't want to watch."

A part of Danny's words were a ploy, and a desperate one. But another part was true. The light outside his windows was increasing. He could not only see the knife but the small dark stain of blood soaking into his shirt. But when he looked at the figure's head, he saw only shadows.

" Please," Danny begged, wanting to puke but too busy just trying to breathe. " Go through the back."

Danny saw the figure's head tilt to one side. " The back? I would have to remove some of the ribs, cut through the lungs. It would take a while. The front is easier. Cut the breastbone, then break the ribs open. Like opening a jammed door."

The man sounded like he was reciting a recipe.

Danny cringed again, wracked by uncontrollable shaking. " No! It - it'd be different. Cut open my back, my lungs. It - it'll be the worst - death yet. The sickest. B - better than anything - your brother has done. Y-you got your own style man. This'll - be part of it."

The figure tilted his head to the other side. " What are you up to?"

Moisture distorted Danny's vision. He blinked it away and felt a tear slide down his face. " I just, I don't want to watch. Just please don't let me see it. That's all."

The figure stayed crouched, unmoving. The pressure of the knife remained where it was, even when Danny tried to cringe away from it. Seconds became like hours, stretching by without count. Time might as well have stood still, becoming Danny's own private hell full of such agony that he was beginning to wish that the man would just cut him open and get it over with. Anything just so long as it eventually ended, even if he had to watch. But Danny did have a plan, and if he could see it through then he would. Danny would not give in without a fight.

" All right."

The man's voice acted like a bullet through glass, breaking through the hell and frozen time to bring both of them back into the real world.

" It will be slower, more painful. But that will make a good punishment."

Danny felt the wire slide around his neck, and saw the Hangman slip like a shadow into more shadows, vanishing behind Danny.

" Lean forward. I need your blood to stay in your body."

Bilge tried to shoot up Danny's throat, but the pressure of the wire kept it back. Danny leaned forward, while at the same time bringing his knees up. He pressed both the heels of his feet into the floor, then tensed the muscles of his legs. He then dropped his hands to the floor, and using both legs and arms, he thrust himself backward with everything he had, snapping his head back into the face of the killer.

Danny's kitchen was small, so with that single push he had the killer pinned between his back and the cupboards. The Hangman cried out in alarm, but it was cut short when Danny repeatedly rammed his elbow into the guy's chest, over and over. The killer, in turn, pulled at the wire, twisting it, and Danny's hand automatically flew up to try and pull it away. He saw the knife glint out of the corner of his eye as it was raised, so abandoned the wire the grab the wrist holding the knife and keep it up.

Danny's panic gave him the strength he needed to twist the killer's wrist, squeezing hard. There was a snap, and the knife fell clattering to the floor.

When Danny reached out to pick it up, the wire tightened again and both his hands flew to it. So, instead, he brought his foot back and kicked it away to send it sliding across the floor.

The wire went wonderfully slack when the figure darted from around Danny to go scrabbling on hand and foot toward the knife. Though half-blind from lack of glasses and oxygen, Danny forced his bloody and broken body to move. He also scrambled toward the counter, stretching his injured arm up against the torture it created and groping along the surface until his hand landed on the gun. He grabbed it, falling to his stomach when his strength suddenly left him.

In the same instance, the Hangman grabbed the knife and stood. Danny stretched out his gun and fired. The gun exploded, the Hangman screamed, and went down when the bullet hit his ankle.

Danny remained where he was, body trembling so badly that he could not move, and heart beating so fast that he could hardly take in enough air to keep up with it. His head swam, the room spun, but there was so much adrenaline coursing through his veins that he could not pass out.

The Hangman brother was writhing on the floor with his knee to his chest and his hands gripping his ankle tightly.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Mavin strode quickly in, pulling out his own weapon and training it on the killer. It was light enough to see by now, but Mavin turned on the light all the same. The Hangman lifted his head to look at Danny with a blank, emotionless expression.

He looked to be a little older than Danny, with short, slicked black hair and a square-jawed face. He was thick-necked and broad shouldered, wearing gray coveralls like what a garbage collector might wear. He did not move, even though his leg was now dripping blood. He just stared at Danny with empty eyes like windows to a vacant room.

" I -uh," Mavin said as he looked from Danny to the Hangman. " I thought you were kidding about that five minute thing."

Danny pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then sat back on his folded legs. He felt cold, and hunched up his shoulders and back, still trembling all over.

Mavin continued to look back and forth from Danny to the Hangman. He then took another stride over to the killer and shoved him onto his chest with a foot to the back. " Stay down!" Mavin barked. He pulled out some cuffs and yanked the killer's arms behind his back. He snapped the cuffs on with an audible click, then straightened and turned to Danny.

Mavin's mouth worked, but no words came out. The man was bewildered into speechlessness, but all Danny's brain could register was what emotion it was he was seeing.

Mavin put his hand to his head and ran his fingers through his hair. " Dang kid… um… you all right?"

As if in answer, Danny gripped his knees with both hands and lowered his head as the once obstructed bilge finally ripped through his throat. He heaved, and a thin stream of vomit mixed with blood poured from his mouth to splash onto the floor.

Mavin grimaced. " Guess not."


	22. End Game

Ch. 21

End Game

It was like observing a specimen in a jar, or a waxwork statue through a window. Hangman one, identified by his driver license as Adrian Wallace, was stone still with his cuffed hands clasped neatly on the table top of the interrogation room. He hardly even blinked, and when he did it came as a surprise to those watching him both outside the room and inside.

Mac was one of the ones observing from the outside. Two Federal agents were handling the interview, and getting no where. Adrian hadn't asked for a lawyer. In fact he hadn't asked for anything, let alone said anything. He had not even winced or cried out when the doctors had removed the bullet from his leg. Mavin had remarked that they should have just left the bullet in to use as a bargaining chip for some info, and Mac couldn't help a silent, sarcastic agreement with him.

" Either he's regressed into himself," Farrone said, " going catatonic, or it's just all part of a strategy."

There was a rather large audience gathered about the window. Stella, Flack, Aiden, and Mavin of course, as well as several others involved in the case. Others were hovering within the halls, as close as they could be, waiting for word of mouth to be passed along. This was a big day for law enforcement. Even those not on the case were all ears to any news that might leak out.

The only one not present was, in Mac's opinion, the one who deserved to be at the front row listening in. But Danny needed rest, and was probably too numbed-up on painkillers to even care what was going down.

One of the agents was sitting across from Adrian, and the other pacing behind. The one at the table asked why he had done it, if there were other bodies, and where his brother was. The one pacing demanded he give them the location of the brother. They shouted, they offered a deal, they tried everything they could and Adrian did not so much as bat an eye.

" Wow," Aiden said, wide-eyed. " This guy's good."

" They're probably going to have to get nasty with him," Farrone said. " Sleep deprivation, meager diet. The kind of stuff that cults are said to use to brain wash people. It's been known to make even hard A-- open up."

Mac narrowed his eyes. The look on Adrian's face was not so much blank as resigned. The man was practicing pure patience, almost as though he was waiting for something.

The agent who had been pacing, a tall man in his fifties with gray along the edges of his dark hair, stepped from the room.

" It's like talking to a rock. He's not going to say anything." He looked at Farrone. " Any ideas?"

Anita chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed. " We must be going about this wrong. Adrian should be talking a storm. Bragging about his killings - or complaining that he was caught, something like that. I wouldn't expect him to give up his brother any time soon, though. Still, I think there's more to his being silent than we realize."

" What'd you suggest?"

" Well, we could ask him what _he_ would have us do."

" Why?" Mavin said. " So he can spout a bunch of crap that'll end up getting him back out on the streets? You give him an inch; he'll screw you faster than you can blink. You can't give him what he wants."

Anita turned to Mavin. " Got a better idea?"

" Yeah, beat his A--."

Rather than giving Mavin a response, Farrone looked back at the agent. " Let me talk to him."

" Talk away." The agent led Farrone into the room. The presence of a woman still got no response from Adrian as Mac had assumed. The agent sitting stood and handed his seat over to Anita. She sat, setting her folder on the table and folding her hands on top of it.

" Adrian Wallace? My name is Anita Farrone and I'm with the FBI. I would like to ask you a few questions. First off, is there anything you need?"

Adrian remained mute.

" O-kay. Maybe… I should rephrase that." She cleared her throat, shifting slightly. She was obviously uncomfortable at what she was about to do; taking into consideration Mavin's words of Adrian manipulating them, because her next words came hesitantly. " Um - what is it… that you want us to do? What would you have us do?"

Still nothing.

" Wouldn't you like to tell us about all the things you did? About the women you killed? About the women your brother killed…"

Suddenly, Adrian closed his eyes as though suddenly weary.

" Not you."

Anita straightened. " What?"

" I have things to say… but _not_ to you. I've lost, I've failed. My brother has won. You want my brother, you want me to tell you where he is. But I can't, not to you. The thing is, you'll never catch him. He won, so he can never be caught. I can, however, tell you where to find him. I must, it was what was agreed upon. But I can't tell you."

Anita leaned forward slightly. " Why not?"

" I can only talk to the one who caught me."

" Why?"

" Because he won. By that it is his right and duty to hear what I have to say. If you want to find my brother than I have to talk to the one who caught me."

" He's a little incapacitated at the moment."

" I'll only talk to him, no one else."

" He can't talk, not right now. I'm surprised you didn't know that since you're the one who did it to him."

" I just need him to listen. But only him." Adrian then fell silent.

Mac was uneasy about this. They needed to find the second killer, but for all any of them knew this was just some plot for Adrian to get at Danny. Adrian had already shown himself to be the vengeful type, and likely wished to finish what he had started with Danny.

Farrone stood and left the room. She gave Mac an apologetic look on coming out. " I think this one's your call since it's one of your guys we're talking about."

" Actually, it would be Danny's call. I'm not going to make him face the guy who tried to cut out his heart, not if he doesn't want to. However, knowing Danny, he'll probably agree to it."

Mac then looked over his shoulder at Flack. " Go to the hospital. If Danny's willing, bring him in. But only when he's ready, and if he's coherent."

Flack nodded. " Got it." Then walked quickly away.

Mac looked back at Farrone. " He said that his brother could never be caught, but he's willing to tell us where to find him. What's that supposed to mean?"

Anita shrugged. " I'm not sure, not yet. We'll have to wait and see if he says more to Danny."

CSINY

There was no saying how long it would be until Danny arrived. It was like an intermission to a movie, with everyone departing to set about some menial busy work, or downing a quick lunch, passing the time until the show resumed.

Mac grabbed some coffee from the break room and took it to his office. He sat at his desk and began looking through a stack of papers. They were the reports on what was found at Danny's apartment after the attack. Adrian had hidden in a closet, where a jar of blood was found that would have been used for the snake. The majority of the blood found on the floor in the kitchen belonged to Danny and outside the kitchen to Adrian. Adrian's hands had been covered in some of Danny's blood as well, leaving distinct fingerprints on the knife.

The evidence was dead-set against this guy. There was no way that Adrian was going to walk.

There came a knock on the glass of the office, and Mac snapped his head up to see Flack standing outside. He nodded once to Mac then pointed back over his shoulder. Mac stood and left the office to follow Flack.

" He's willing," Flack said. " But he doesn't look too up to it. I would say he looks like hell but it would be an understatement."

Danny was found sitting at a desk that wasn't his. Flack hadn't been kidding when he said that Danny looked like hell. The usually professionally dressed CSI had his arm in a blue sling, his shirt untucked and slightly wrinkled, and no jacket. His face was turned down, resting in his upraised palm.

" Hey, Danny!" Flack said. Danny lowered his arm and raised his head to reveal a pale face with dark shadows under his eyes. There was a bandage wrapped around the middle of his throat like a bad dog collar, and his glasses were missing from his face. He also looked ready to drop his head on the desk and fall asleep.

Mac grabbed the nearest unoccupied chair and pulled it over in front of the desk to sit down. " Flack explain the situation?"

Danny swallowed, wincing and shuddering when he did, and nodded.

" This guy insists on talking to you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to do this. He might say things, try things, meant to upset you, I'm warning you now."

Danny lifted a shaking hand to run it through his hair. He didn't just look tired he also looked sick, most likely because of the drugs.

" You with me, Danny?"

Danny nodded again, swallowing with another wince.

" All you have to do is listen. But you'll be in there alone. He won't talk if anyone else is in there."

Again, Danny nodded.

" Let's do this, then."

CSINY

Danny could only stare at the dark-haired man sitting across from him. It was said of serial killers that they never looked the part of the ideal bad-guy. If anything they always looked innocent, everyday, a face easily lost in the masses, trustable and plain. This guy was one of those. There was nothing sinister or murderous in his expression. If anything he looked sad, and if Danny hadn't known any better he would have felt somewhat sorry for the man.

So Danny felt no fear around Adrian, but he was wary, and the sleep-fog that had refused to clear up finally vanished with rising trepidation.

They sat in silence for a moment with locked gazes. Danny wanted desperately to say something, anything - biting, sarcastic, questioning. But trying to talk caused as much agony as trying to swallow.

" You look terrible," Adrian finally said. Danny grinned bitterly, then raised his middle finger at the guy.

" Were these different circumstances, I would have taken that as rude and not told you anything. But I have to. I lost. As the loser, I have to tell you everything. Your co-workers want me to tell you about the deaths, but you already know about those. I would like to point at that they all came to us. It had been their choice."

Danny clenched his fist furiously and swallowed. When he did, a burning pain pulsed within his throat. He wanted to ask why they had killed them at all, why this all happened. The answer would probably involve some sob story about how they were abused or molested as children. Maybe they had been neglected and didn't like being ignored, or had terrible love lives. More than likely it was all because of some superiority complex. The game had been about proving themselves, according to Farrone. So much for trying to prove anything.

" You won't catch my brother," he said. " You never will, I'm warning you now. So why am I telling you where to find him?" Adrian grinned a cold, humorless smile. " You'll find out."

He then leaned forward. " Listen closely now."

He lowered his voice as he told Danny of an address and even how to find it. He repeated the address three times, then sat back, folding his hands back onto the table and falling into silence.

" And next time someone comes into your home to put a knife to you, don't go back. I know it was hard, especially for you. You shouldn't have said anything in the park. You shouldn't have gone home."

Danny wanted to laugh, and the urge to speak made the muscles of his throat tense up, burning until he coughed. Adrian grinned at this, aggravating Danny further. Finally, Danny pushed himself to his feet with painful slowness. He moved around the table, then gripped the chain between the cuffs and leaned in toward Adrian.

" You shouldn't…" he rasped in so low a whisper that he did not even know if he had spoken at all. His throat practically screamed with pain, but he swallowed and forced the words out. " Have come… to… _my house_."

To drive home his point, he lifted the cuffs by the connecting chain, then released it to let Adrian's hands drop to the table with a loud thump. Danny straightened as much as his own body would allow, coughing and clenching his hands to resist rubbing his throat. He left the room, still coughing though it was only making things worse. Still, it had been worth it. Adrian was no longer smiling.

" We didn't hear the address," Mac said, looking at Danny oddly. " Write it down."

Farrone handed Danny a pen and held out her notepad as Danny wrote down the address.

" Will you be all right waiting here until we check this out?" Mac asked. Danny nodded. He wanted to go and see this brother for himself, but the adrenaline rush that had cleared his head in the interrogation room had been short lived, and was leaving him fast. All he wanted to do was lie down, but not here and not back at the hospital.

Mac handed the address to one of the Feds, and he began giving orders of who should come and how they needed to go about this. Danny was still holding the pen, so nudged Farrone in the arm with his elbow and gestured to note pad. She held it as he wrote down a question, then tore the paper off and handed it to Mac.

_When you get this guy, _then_ can I go home?_

Mac grinned. " Yeah. Then you can go home."

CSINY

The address took them to an apartment in Brooklyn; a small building crammed between two others in a quiet, old fashioned kind of neighborhood. It was full of sound and life with screaming kids at play, barking dogs, someone blasting a stereo, and adults gathered on stoops or around cars talking.

The wail of police sirens and the sight of cop cars caused the everyday activity of the neighborhood to cease, and all eyes turned in the direction of the action. Law enforcement entered the building, making their way to the third floor and the room at the very end of the green-carpeted corridor.

Mavin was the one who reached the place first. He pulled out his gun and pounded on the door.

" Mr. Wallace? This is the NYPD. Open up."

They all waited several seconds, but heard no sound. Finally, Mavin and another cop kicked in the door and they all rushed in, only to stop before even entering the living room.

The spitting image of Adrian Wallace was hanging from a fan half-torn from the ceiling by the man's weight. The noose was formed from a wire that had cut into his neck, spilling his blood down his clothes and into a bucket below his feet. A chair lay toppled on its back behind the corpse. A note pinned to his gray cover-alls read - _I win_.

" So that's what he meant," Flack said, " when he said we wouldn't catch him."

Mac nodded then maneuvered through the gaping police, with Stella and Farrone following behind. Mac set his kit down by the chair, then pulled out his cell.

" Who're you calling?" Stella asked, setting her own kit down.

" Danny."

" Why?"

" To let him know he can go home."


	23. Epilogue

A/N: Concerning death penalties, I am not making a statement about it, for or against. Whatever your beliefs, it just seemed more likely that my serial killer character would be leaning toward getting the death penalty. But I have no idea how the whole thing is handled, court time and all that, so I'm remaining somewhat vague. I could probably do research, but I can't use the Internet at the moment and - well - I'm lazy and it's not all that important anyway. Sorry.

Epilogue

Trial of the century was a term that had become a nasty cliché over the years. It seemed to Mavin that even a parking misdemeanor could become a trial of the century if the accused was popular enough. But he had no choice but to use the title in consideration of the Hangman trial. In terms of time it had been brief - the trial practically over before it had begun - but having to recount everything that had happened made it feel far too long.

A search of Adrian's placed had unearthed more evidence in a day than the entire CSI had uncovered since the case began. There were jars of blood, boxes of siphons, and even photos of the vics before death and after, all kept as souvenirs according to Farrone. Then there was Adrian's unhesitant confession as he gave details only the real killer would know of. Adrian would never breathe free again, let alone breathe.

The final day of trial was adjourned, Adrian had been given life pending a second trial later to get him the death penalty, and Mavin was now pacing in short strides the cavernous front entrance to the Courthouse. The second half of his testimony had been given today, focusing on recent events. Following that came Danny's statement, which might as well have decided the whole thing. With his arm still in a sling and a thin, bloody scab circling his throat his presence alone acted as evidence to what Adrian and his brother had been about.

Danny's testimony had been clear-cut and finely detailed, but then he was well practiced at court appearances being a forensic and all. He answered questions without hesitation. Then he came to the part where Adrian had jumped him, wrapping the wire around his neck and putting a knife to his chest. It was here that Danny faltered, twice, as he forced himself to describe how he had incapacitated Adrian by begging him not to cut him open.

" Not in the front," Danny had said, paling slightly. " I - I _told_ him I didn't want to see it. He agreed, so moved behind me. He described how it was gonna be… I pushed myself back, pinning him against the cupboards…"

The prosecution asked for Adrian's exact words during the whole ordeal, and Mavin wasn't certain whether Danny was going to be sick or leap at Adrian to tear his throat out. He said as much as he could remember of Adrian's words, the blood draining from his face even faster. Mavin thought he was going to be sick himself as he listened, yet Danny's intense gaze never wavered from Adrian.

Mavin shook his head in disbelief as he thought back to it. Danny had scored them major sympathy points, which most likely did more for them than mountains of evidence ever could. There was no denying the change that had come over Messer has he verbally reiterated the attack. There was no faking that kind of remembered horror, and it amazed Mavin that Danny had been able to do it at all. It made Mavin fairly ill thinking back on it, all that blood dripping off Danny's face and from his throat. What had made it most disturbing was the fact that Danny was still alive, and Mavin's brain kept registering that he should be dead. It had horrified Mavin, he admitted that, and that had only been the after math of the attack. Prosecution had really saved the best for last.

Mavin made another turn in his pacing, but stopped after three steps when he saw Danny heading down the hall toward him, looking slightly annoyed but still a little pale. He was the last one to be heading out (Mavin not counting himself) and seemed to be taking his sweet time about it. He gave Mavin a glance and a nod, then slowed as he approached the doors, craning his neck to look outside.

It hit Mavin suddenly what Danny was doing, and had to bite back a laugh. " I think they're gone, Messer," he said. " In fact I think they've been gone for five minutes already. So you're safe. Not the 'give a statement to the reporter' kind of guy I take it?"

Danny visibly relaxed as he stopped a few paces from the doors. He turned his tired gaze to Mavin. " Pretty much."

" Especially not today, am I right?"

Danny shrugged.

Mavin grinned. " I don't blame you. I'll admit this much about myself, I'm usually into the whole news-spot glory thing, but something about it…" he clicked his tongue. " It just didn't feel right. Not today."

" Because of Myers?"

Mavin's immediate thought was that Danny was going for an insult, but the young CSI looked genuinely curious, even understanding. The prickle of irritation that coursed through Mavin vanished as quickly as it had come. He was too tired for it anyway. Besides, like it or not, Danny was right.

" Yeah, probably. She was always slick with the reporter questions. And, yeah, this should have been her gig to close up, not mine."

" Hey, at least it got closed," Danny replied.

" True."

" See ya around then," and Danny moved toward the door.

" Hey, Messer, wait," Mavin called just before Danny stepped out. He stopped and turned, eyeing Mavin warily.

" What?"

Mavin couldn't help another grin. " Seriously, Messer you need to learn to relax."

" You need to learn to lay off."

Mavin chuckled. " You're not half bad, Messer, you know that?"

Danny gave a nonchalant shrug. " I suppose the same could be said about you."

" But you're hoping never to see me again, right?"

Another shrug. " Don't take it personally."

Mavin waved a dismissive hand. " Naw! Shared sentiment actually. But, hey, just in case - if we ever do work together again? I'll keep my mouth shut the whole time. Promise. Scouts honor."

At this, Danny smirked. " Can't promise the same."

Mavin chuckled again and nodded. " Then let's just hope we never see eachother again."

" Very cool with me," and Danny pushed open the door with his back and headed out. Mavin watched him go with a grudging respect he had no choice but to feel. Danny had a lot of guts and a lot of spine. Mavin both admitted and admired that, but was honest in his hope of never having to work with Danny again. Mavin always was bad at keeping promises.

The End

NOTE

Thank you, dear readers, one and all, for reading this bit of fic and leaving wonderful comments! I hope you enjoyed these last few chapters. Heck, I hope you enjoyed the story period. I had lots of fun thinking it up and writing it. I again apologize for the massive gap in the updates. I felt really bad about that, but it involved circumstances beyond my control. I will be doing other fics sometime in the future (all Danny related, of course, for all you fellow Danny fans) but probably not for a while.

P.S. - I think someone should do a story centered around the comment made by Flack to Danny in the episode Blood, Sweat and Tears (at least I think it was that episode). The one where Danny talks about not knowing anyone in his building and Flack responding by saying to Danny that he better hope he never disappears (or goes missing, whatever. Don't recall the details). I've been toying with the concept but haven't come up with anything I'd be willing to do. It would be interesting to see what someone else comes up with, though. Personally, (and this is just my opinion) the comment gave me the impression that there was some foreshadowing going on for some future episode. Then again, I was probably looking at it too deeply.


End file.
